a long haul's journey outta sight

Moving right along...

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 10:20:54 -0400

I’m moving over to wordpress to open a bit more space for the shop. Join me at alonghaul.wordpress.com! Finally - far, far too late - there will be commenting allowing, so let give me your comments, complimants and insults.

The day after Irene was for exploring the changed landscape....

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 14:16:55 -0400

The day after Irene was for exploring the changed landscape. Flooding was pretty severe.

When I returned to NYC, it was time for a Hurricane. I spent...

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 13:38:15 -0400

When I returned to NYC, it was time for a Hurricane. I spent Irene with my friends in Newark. About eight of us stocked up on non-perishables, water and wine and cooked a feast. While the storm happened outside, Jess and I fixed up the bikes that had been waiting in storage, neglected, forlorn.

How I stop pedaling and learned to ice my knee

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 06:25:24 -0400

One of the bummers in filling in the end of the ride, aside from it being the end of the ride, is that I finally was forced to get a new phone. As some of you know, I threw my old one to the ground several times, even running it over in a Wyoming parking lot in front of Radio Shack. Anyway, some where in the switch to new, I lost my photos from the last bit of my trip.

I’m not going to use the whole thousand words per to make up for the loss, so use tour imagination. It won’t be too taxing because there isn’t much ground to cover, sadly.

As I said, I made the wedding with a week to spare.

Proof I was there: the bride and I.

the next morning I needed to see the proof I was there.

After the rest, I started off on Monday for Brooklyn, heading due east to Lake Champlain. It was rainy and chilly, but so so nice to be back on the road.

I pulled into Westport on the lake shore, had a quick double cheeseburger and fries and headed back out.

Here’s where trouble set in.

In between Westport and Port Henry, my right knee developed a sensation I’ll call an agonizing stab with a heated steak knife. My right knee is the location of an old ski injury sustained while showing off to some 8 year olds in my charge while working as a ski instructor in Crested Butte, CO, but that’s enough on that story..

I rode on, hoping to work out the pain. Despite frequent stops to massage the back of my knee and cry, the pain continued.

Arriving in Port Henry, I stopped at Stewart’s, bought a milkshake and procuring ice for the now swelling knee - probably a product more of my amatuer massaging - and weighed my options. Continue on in pain or throw in the towel.

Being among the uninsured, my concern was monetary as well as for my well-being. Crass, so Crass.

I stopped. I made it across the country and will return to ride to and from Lake Placid soon. I’ll drag my brother with me next time.

The schooner’s dry docked. Now the task is to set up and build more cargo bikes for NYC - onward! Excelsior!

More on that effort soon - it a developing story.

The Schooner Aground

Fri, 16 Sep 2011 17:12:51 -0400

Woah! I just left it hanging there, didn’t I?

Well I didn’t fulfill my hermit fantasy, for better or worse.

If anyone’s still out there - forgot to stop following the feed or something, I will now fill in the end. Over a couple days, a few posts.

There is some woe involved. Nothing serious: concern for a knee, unfortunate things done for money, stinking blocks in the way of getting a shop set up.

But I’m here in New York. Before posting about the tail of my trip, I want to thank everyone I met along the way again. Y’all are stellar.

What has it been now? 3200 miles or so, the schooner and I. Some...

Tue, 09 Aug 2011 06:54:29 -0400

What has it been now? 3200 miles or so, the schooner and I. Some good hills, some gravel path, some rough city roads.

I finally had to walk the bike. My parent’s driveway proved too much. The combination of steep grade and loose gravel is not a preferred riding surface.

Lake Placid! I don’t know how I got so far ahead of...

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 17:06:17 -0400

Lake Placid! I don’t know how I got so far ahead of schedule. Lisa’s wedding isn’t until twelfth, so I guess that means a week off before continuing to NYC. I’ll post here and there, but the pace will slow. I imagine I am now going to sleep for 20 of the next few 24 hours.

Sunset from my campsite on Lake Eaton, NY. It’ll be down...

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 20:23:46 -0400

Sunset from my campsite on Lake Eaton, NY.

It’ll be down in the fifties tonight. My tent is still wet from last night, but the chance of rain is only forty percent tonight.

I’m not that concerned. I learned back in Cody, NE that my sleeping bag will keep me warm even when soaked.

Blue mountain Lake from the edge of Blue Mountain.

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 16:55:36 -0400

Blue mountain Lake from the edge of Blue Mountain.

Seventh Lake in the Fulton Chain of lakes, Central Adirondacks,...

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 12:34:40 -0400

Seventh Lake in the Fulton Chain of lakes, Central Adirondacks, NY.

The lakes are dotted with tiny islands. There is something about their rocky shores and dense stands of pines that makes me want to swim out and become a hermit. I would live on fish and turtles, Queen Anne’s Lace and pine needle tea. I’d fend off canoers and explorers by simply being there, with my wild eyes and clothes made of bark, loon feathers and muskrat pelts.

Eventually no one would be sure if the stories about the Wild Man of the Island were true. It would become a story told at the camps, an entry in “Strange Tales of the Adirondacks.”

Thrill seekers, bigfoot hunters and paranormalists would become interested. They’d seek out the island - which island is no longer certain. At first, i would invent elaborate ruses to ward them off or misdirect them, point away from my island.

I’d pose as an real estate appraiser and say to them, “no, sorry no Wild Man on this island. A Russian financier is buying it, wants to trap beaver. Try the island in Fifth Lake.”

I’d try to hide, build my home up in the trees, or dig a pit and live like a mole. But the paranormalists, thed have equipment for that. They’d have infrared and ultraviolet glasses, heat detecting cameras and spirit counters.

I would lose my patience, my resolve. I’d confront the interlopers and ask why they don’t just leave me alone, I only wanted to be left alone. The only answer would be the fake shutter sound of digital cameras and mutters behind video, “omg, he’s standing right in front of me. Can’t be more than 20 yards.”

There would be a brief period of unwanted fame after the video shows on Spike TV. I would have to barricade myself in my weekly rate room at the Inlet Rest M tel & Apts. I’d be thought unstable and supported by the generosity of an older couple of long-time residents in town.

When the attention dies, I’d quietly stay inside my room at the Rest, going outside only to walk alone in the woods and cook on my small charcoal grill by the door.

Occasionally a young couple in short denim cut-offs and thick rimmed glasses would stop and take a quick photo of my motel door before hopping back in their Subaru Volkswagen and driving away.

It would be five days before they would break down the door to find me, choked on a morell foraged from the glen only that five days ago morning.

Ive crossed the blue line. The Adirondacks! So close! But, yes,...

Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:27:41 -0400

Ive crossed the blue line. The Adirondacks! So close! But, yes, you saw it coming: so far.

The Adirondack park is the largest park in the lower 48. There’s any number of comparison’s to make One of my favorites is that it is bigger than Yellowstone, Glacier and The Everglades national parks combined.

The park is about 6 million acres (about the size of Vermont), about half of which is public, half private.

The public land is constitutionally mandated “forever wild.” of course what “forever wild” means has been the subject of some negotiation over the years.

So I entered the park near the southwest corned and am traveling up to Lake Placid for my friend Lisa’s wedding in the high peaks region, northeast in the park.

So I still have some rising before the next multiday rest.

So here’s a rare photo of me with the schooner. Normally...

Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:08:00 -0400

So here’s a rare photo of me with the schooner.

Normally the bike is such a prima donna.

Larry and Patty Ehlinger of Rome, NY are seasoned warmshowers...

Sat, 06 Aug 2011 17:00:27 -0400

Larry and Patty Ehlinger of Rome, NY are seasoned warmshowers hosts.

Larry’s been hosting for over 20 years. They hosted a father and son two nights ago, then me last night.

Larry’s an even more dedicated bike commuter, making his 16 mile rood trip commute by bike for three seasons since 1973.

He has logged many more miles than I ever could.

Thanks guys, the bike force is strong with you.

This is Jug. He and his wife Betty own Jug’s Tavern in...

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 21:31:08 -0400

This is Jug. He and his wife Betty own Jug’s Tavern in Sodus, NY.

He walked over as I stood on the main street in Sodus trying to gather local intel on nearby campgrounds or parks. While he didn’t come up with a campground (we were eventually able to locate one with the help of the rest of Jug’s), he did help with dinner. He modestly suggested the Chinese place down the street before mentioning that he owned the tavern across the street. Off we went.

The decor in Jug’s is dominated by a twenty foot shuffleboard table and plenty of Elvis memorabilia, a motif that is endearing to me, as those who know me can attest.

Jug personally cooked up a perfect burger with a healthy portion of Betty’s potato salad.

They wouldn’t let me pay. For the Labatt’s, either. Betty wouldn’t even let me leave a tip. I managed to throw a fistful of dollars at the bar and run out before she could catch me.

Meanwhile, Jug was pretty excited about the schooner and stayed outside to show it off.

The rest of the folks at the bar put their heads together and came up with a list of potential places to stay. Cherry Creek campground in Wolcott, NY was the eventual winner and that’s where I spent last night.

Some of the guys at Jug’s Tavern, Sodus, NY.

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 12:55:00 -0400

Some of the guys at Jug’s Tavern, Sodus, NY.

Things Kyle Finds on the Side of the Road, Episode Three. This...

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 08:21:47 -0400

Things Kyle Finds on the Side of the Road, Episode Three.

This is the third needle found on the trip. Better or worse than drunk driving? The difficulty/danger probably depends on whether the shooting is happening while trying to drive. More like texting, or trying to muddle a fourth mojito while merging onto the Major Deegan.

The Charlotte-Genesee lighthouse was built in 1822 at the Port...

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 08:11:21 -0400

The Charlotte-Genesee lighthouse was built in 1822 at the Port of Rochester on lake Ontario. It sits behind the Pelican Bar, “a slice a Key West in Rochester!”

Rochester has some beautiful bike paths. Here the schooner and I...

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 07:56:57 -0400

Rochester has some beautiful bike paths. Here the schooner and I take a rest on one of the elevated paths over the river.

Once I got towards the port, lots of folks were out biking, walking, sailing. It was great.

I have to share the gorgeous shaded path along the Genesee River...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 12:47:38 -0400

I have to share the gorgeous shaded path along the Genesee River in Rochester. Downhill, dark, cool. Surrounded by cemeteries. Empty and quiet.

On Road Kill I have been meaning to write about roadkill. Now...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 11:51:23 -0400

On Road Kill

I have been meaning to write about roadkill. Now is as good a time as any.

If you haven’t biked or walked significant distances, I don’t know if you can appreciate the numbers of animals meeting their end in the grill of a Hyundai Sonata.

Unfortunate animals line the roads at a rate of at least one per 1/4 mile, to be smelled if not seen. They are in all manner of final repose, from the seemingly tired to the unidentifiable round of fur and grease. I’ve seen dozens of species, wild things and domestic things.

I’m not scolding anyone or making a pitch. I’m no innocent.

Just yesterday I hit a goose. I rode, ringing my bell and clucking ( as you do when passing through a flock of fowl), warning a way. Well, I took a line close to the river, which happens to be where the geese thought safest. geese are not runners, and as the last ran to the water, I, trying to cut back inland, ran right into it. I think I was the more shocked of the two.

The goose and i have recovered, reconciled by continuing on with our separate lives.

In a way that’s not entirely without metaphor, over the past few thousand miles i’ve become accustomed to the presence of death along the road, as much as to all that living.