Thursday, May 26th
Today brought my cycling in the state of New York to a close as I pass, for a day or two, into Pennsylvania. It also marks my longest day (105 miles), and although technically i’ve been heading West for a while, it now really feels like i’m truly pointing my front wheel toward the Pacific.
I left the house at about 8.30 or 9 and quickly eat some pancakes and bacon at JJ’s ‘House of Breakfast’ nearby. It’s a tiny diner on a street corner, but is busy with locals and JJ seems to enjoy some kind of cult status.The bacon is beyond cremated.
My aim is to reach Erie in Pennsylvania, specifically Sara’s campsite – a beachfront campsite one of the cyclists I met on Tuesday night recommended to me. It’s over 100 miles from Buffalo but the route is incredibly straightforward – more or less all along the Route 5, following the shoreline of Lake Erie.
It takes me a while to get out of the city but gives me a chance to stop and photograph some things I remember passing on Tuesday evening on the edge of the city. But soon enough I reach an edge of the lake. My first view of it is from the car park of a restaurant. My only real thought is it’s big, and feels more like sea than a lake, in fact I prefer to think of it that way for some reason.
Once I join the Route 5, the six of eight hours which follow all blend together and it’s hard to pick out anything in particular as the ride is so smooth and, really, very easy. The road is mostly flat, with some sets of hills later on, most of which it was possibly to climb easily with the momentum from your descent on the downward slope.
Early on I stop at McDonalds for a milkshake, my second in a few days, a dangerous habit if I let it take hold but I justify it by thinking that i’m not getting a lot of dairy in my diet at all. Along the road are the usual mix of gas stations, abandoned things, restaurants and stores.
As the day wears on unusually my speed increases. The overcast weather of the morning passes and the sun and heat arrive, but staying close to the lake keeps the temperature a little lower.
I stop in Dunkirk, a slice of pizza for lunch. The crust is usually big and thick – not a typical New York slice, perhaps a sign that i’m leaving it behind. I stop by a Salvation Army thrift store and buy a shirt and I get a coffee and sit with a view of Dunkirk lighthouse as some people throw a football amidst some geese on the beach in front of it.
More peaceful miles follow, another 20 or so before I reach Barcelona and stop for to drink an iced tea and take in the view of the harbour. The shore is treelined and stretches off into the horizon endlessly. I think about swimming.
At some point in the 20 miles after that I cross the New York / Pensylvania border. If there was a sign announcing the transition I completely miss it and only realise when I check Google Maps. There is no immediate change of course. The land becomes more agricultural and sparser and then a number of vineyards, part of a wine trail, follow later on. I’m around 25 miles from Erie and simply carry on going.
Reaching Erie I follow a bike path through the city, close to the lake still, and make it to the campsite around half an hour before sunset. It’s busy. A lot of RV vehicles which seem to have a semi-permanent home here. There are restaurants on site, laundry and wifi too. The whole thing has the feel of a British holiday resort in some ways, which is a little off-putting or at least an adjustment from my typical camping arrangements which are a lot more haphazard. But it’s a side of America i’ve not really seen before and it’s interesting seeing how people arrange their tents, trucks, flags, coolers, and every other camping comfort.
I pay $17.50 for the night. It’s more than I want of course but seems to be the going rate, and it’s hard to complain too much with the facilities and the view from the beach. It’s a Thursday but already the number of good spots are limited as the beach fills up ahead of Memorial Day on Monday.
I put up my tent on the sand. Someone is listening to a sports commentary on the radio nearby. I speak to a guy next to me who has taken his family here for the weekend and tell him about my ride. Other people sit out on the porches of their caravans and RV’s. People light fires on the beach and the sun sets directly in front of us.
As I get in my tent I can hear the waves, the fires, unhurried conversations, muffled country music playing from somewhere. It’s the sound of people relaxing and than in itself is relaxing.
Map
