Welcome to the second in a series of posts featuring journal excerpts from my attempt to cycle across the USA. In this instalment, I leave Manhattan Island and strike out for the Canadian border.
Day 6 – Monday 16th May
On the 16th May, in the height of spring, I swing my leg over the saddle and pedal out of New York City. I get a little lost in the Bronx, but generally the Empire State Trail is easy to follow. I’ve packed no food and only a single bottle of water, so I manage only about two hours before pulling over in a small diner for sustenance.
My strength replenished, I make good progress towards the town of Brewster. About 20 miles away, I receive a message from an unknown number that a severe storm is coming and schools are being closed. 20 minutes from my host’s house, the storm hits. Some fairly biblical sheets of rain fall, and I shelter beneath an industrial building on the roadside.
Later on, I’m sitting in the warmth of a family home eating pasta with a tomato sauce, spiralized zucchini and homemade bread. “Sorry the focaccia is a bit boring,” says Bill, my host and a former ski resort chef.
Day 8 – Wednesday 18th May
I arrive in Hudson around 5pm with nowhere to stay. There’s a campsite 9 miles distant that I tried to book online, but it’s radio silence from the operator. I receive a tip off about a local park I might try.
Dining in town, I ask the waitress about the park. She looks highly sceptical: “I haven’t been there for years, but I know there are bears around at night.”
With nowhere else to go, I make for the park. I’m scouting around for a spot to pitch my tent when a voice shouts at me to come out of the woods now. Suspecting law enforcement, I emerge deliberately with no sudden movements.
It turns out another group of cyclists down from Buffalo have received permission to camp in the park’s pavilion. And so, what might have been a lonesome night with unwanted wildlife encounters, turns into a friendly party complete with free whiskey.
Day 12 – Sunday 22nd May
Canada geese have been with me all the way along the Erie Canal, many with a clutch of goslings in tow. They sometimes hiss when I pass, but until now I have paid them little mind.
I reach a section where the track narrows, canal to the left and forest to the right. Two geese and half a dozen goslings block the way forward. As I advance, one of the adults hisses and charges me. I drop my bike in alarm and retreat.
Regaining my composure, I pick up the bike and try again. The goose charges, but I hold my ground. Wings unfurl and the bird flies right into my front wheel, which I have raised as a defensive shield. I dash past and flee the scene as fast as my pedals will take me.
Day 14 – Tuesday 24th May
I hit the road early and make it to the sizable settlement of Rochester by early afternoon. In the massive REI outdoor store, I pick up a water filtration system and Swiss army knife. My hosts live in the city and are both lawyers, one corporate, the other specialising in homicides.
The evening conversation has a surreal and morbid flavour, including a discussion of one woman so desperate to murder her husband that she drove across country wearing adult diapers to avoid bathroom breaks. We retire inside to watch a murder documentary about a man accused of killing his wife. The defence take the far-fetched line that the lacerations to the body were the handiwork of a wayward owl. One might suppose I’d feel uncomfortable dwelling on these topics in a house full of strangers, but somehow it works.
Day 16 – Thursday 26th May
After hundreds of miles on the Erie Canal trail, it seems somehow wrong that I should leave it before the terminus at Buffalo. But, my destination is Niagara Falls, and so I ride 20 miles on some fairly unpleasant highway shoulders to reach at last the fabled sight.
I cross the border into Canada via the Rainbow Bridge and see the Falls in all their glory. They are not one, but three: the American Falls, Bridal Veil Falls and Horseshoe Falls. Of these, the Horseshoe Falls is the largest and most spectacular.
I stand at the brink, watching the water accelerate over the drop and dissolve in a tumbling shower of spray. I feel a lurch of dizziness, as though a trapdoor has been opened under my feet. The endless torrent of the river compels my gaze, and I feel what a puny thing man is beside it. I am grateful then that, in spite of all my wanderings, my capacity for childlike awe remains strong, and that this journey, even should it fail, will have been worth it for moments such as these.