More from Val

 

In Praise of Ponchos.
I have in the past been quite dismissive of cheap plastic ponchos.. well...
While in Toronto I bought a smart new biking rain jacket. It has long long sleeves, zippy underarms and is a lovely red colour. On it first outing I was thrilled, dry inside , comfy and warm. But then it really rained, record breaking rain it was too. The rain coursed off my helmet and through the over large neck hole of the jacket. My body was soon soaked and cold, and big pools of water collected round my elbows in the sleeves. I solved the problem that day with a super market bag under the helmet and a bundle of rags round my neck.
Yesterday I bought a cheap plastic poncho, and already have delighted in is efficacy. Worn over the red jacket it sheds the rain. Don says I look like the Vicar of Dibbly, cosy, round and very content.
At a recent camp ground there were no showers of washing facilities. Don solved an old problem of clothes washing by filling an empty pannier bag with water and clothes, and swishing it round for a bit. I can feel a poncho combo coming on. With a pannier of water up a tree, and a syphon pipe coming down to my neck I will be inside the poncho, enjoying a very public yet private shower.

 

As the day got hotter and the hills steeper I called for time out under a tree. We lay back and watched the buzzards circling way high. The sky blackened very fast and as the first huge drops of water fell we hurried to put up pinky, out little shelter tent. The thunder shook the ground and the lightening really did crack overhead. Sadly we had put up the tent inside out, so the rain drained in through the vents. I relaxed with my I pod, Mozart's violin no 3 was the perfect music and played exactly the length of the storm. The temp dropped many degrees and on we went.

 

Brooklyn PI

 

One of the big moments - arriving in NEW YORK STATE.

We came over to Long Island on a ferry from New London,Conneticut, with not a little apprehension, our attempts at making contact with Warm Showers hosts had come to nothing.

 

An indication that an annual festivity involving pumpkins is not too far away, was this display on a roadside stall on our first days ride on Long Island.

 

 

We wondered if we'd made the right choice when Tommy said

"I've got a 35foot Alligator in the house, with big teeth!

Wait here a moment"

When we met Doris she was not a bit scary; a tall, willowy figure, she looked as though she'd walked many miles in the shoes of others, and had a heart of gold.

Both brought up in Brooklyn, they lived about 2 hours drive from there, which Doris pined for, but Tommy only went back for Gridiron games, and to see his Mother.

Of medium to stocky build with an implacable and unruffled expression that sat well with a man who, only a few years before, had surrendered his Private Investigators Licence. His business on Wall St had once emplyed thirty people, but Internet security checks along with other modern techniques had driven the business under, finger printing became obsolete.

Tommy and Doris were preparing to host us in style,unaware of this, I was busy getting tea underway on the Trangia camp stove when Val informed me;

"Tommy is expecting to do Hamburgers for us"

I called to him

"Hey Tom, I think we are putting enough on you by asking for a place to camp, without you feeding us as well!"

"You're not telling me you do embarressed are you?"

We had a shared meal, he did the Hamburgers I did boiled potatoes - not a traditional American meal.

After dinner we sat over a glass of wine and a can or two of beer, talking about many things, among these, the intriguing fact that Doris had a friend who'd been a Bunny Girl at one of Hefners Playboy Clubs years ago, till late in the evening, Val and Doris headed their respective ways to bed and Tommy appeared with another couple of cold cans.

I was completely oblivious to the fact that next day was the anniversary of the most traumatic event in modern American History - 9/11 and this was something personally traumatic to both our hosts.

Tommy had wandered throught the Twin Towers Plaza on the previous day, knew a lot of people, business associates, firemen and policemen who had lost their lives, then to cap it all, he witnessed the second plane fly into the tower block from the deck of a Hudson River Ferry.

No wonder he had a few beers that night, (maybe our being there made things a little easier, I hope so) Doris also knew many killed and lost someone close, a young man whom she helped raise from a baby in nappies.

Next morning when I went into the house a TV relayed a ceremony from Ground Zero, reading out the names of all the victims.

Later along the road we passed a fire station with a firemans kit placed on the ground in front of fire truck out of the shed and facing the road. Flags all along the way flew at half mast and on the media the debate raged about the nutty clergyman in Florida who threatened to burn the Koran and opinions varied on the building of a Muslim Centre in the vicinity of Ground Zero.

On The Beach - Long Island

 
 
 
 

We had no luck yesterday finding people beside the road with a patch of lawn for our tent and last night we camped on a Long Island beach at a town called Fort Jefferson. Just after dark, some of the local kids were surprised to find us there as they began to party drinking Bourbon from a bottle and smoking their joints, but seemed to accept us being there first and moved on along the beach.

Then around 3am a noisy mob arrived right alongside us, but were too preoccupied to see us, and disrobing, began skinny dipping about 10metres away. A lot of noise, screaming and yelling – one loud voice even claimed a floating pontoon for “New Zealand” They left about 4am and we'd just got back to sleep when  a couple of lads turned up looking for a missing item. As they were only a few metres away, I stuck my head out of the tent and called,

“Do you want to borrow a torch?”

A shocked Irish voice said

"Fuckin hell, who's this"

“ We're camping here, on a cycle tour from NZ.”

His shock was such that he could barely stagger over to the tent, though he took the torch, found what they were looking for , returned the torch and mumbled an apology for being so noisy earlier on.

Another night on the cycle trail.

Next night we stayed in a B & B giving ourslelves some luxury and we plan a train trip into the Big Apple.

Dancing with Marilyn.

 

Fashion Week.

Just before we left home I had a rush of energy, and printed a 'Skirt for New York', virbant.. garish???.
Not many people in New York catch your eye or make contact, they have things to do and places to go. So when a young woman passed by ad said'Like your skirt "I was happy. It's New York fashion week, stand over Donna Klein. Victoria Beckam compered her own show it seems.. I might have to model my own next year.

Ups and Downs, val gj

Like life, a bike trips ups and downs, not only the geography, but my mood, my energy enthusiasm, and the amount of food in the bag. I trundle my way up a hill, enjoy the view, cruise down the other side and start all over again. I try to look from hill top to hill top, not valley bottom the valley bottom. And, like life, the bigger the down the better the up.
In the last 24 hours we went from a deep crevasse to an alpine peak We started the day, damp and cold, about 100 kms out of New York on Long Island. None of the many Warm Showers hosts whom Don had contacted had responded. Sitting in a huge Laundrette, which had WiFi we found all hostels in New York were full, and camp grounds impractical. And how would we get a permit to take bikes on the train. We did not wish to admit defeat, (and face an extended holiday on Long Island) but for quite for a while we really did not know what to do.
In Portland we had met Pam at a party, a lively, vibrant woman who insisted her nephew in Hoboken, New Jersey, would love to have us to stay. Even I thought it a bit of a cheek, as I rang the number.
Today we had a trouble free train trip, changing twice, en route to John and Ali's luxury apartment, ( $1 75 on the sub way to Manhattan ) with a squinty view of the sky scrapers just across the Hudson River. We have landed sunny side up again, and intend to stay on the hill top for quite some time. Within 24 hours hours of despair, we were biking round the waterfront like locals, taking in the views of Manhatta at sundown.

The first 1000kms, val gj

The 1000th Km slipped under the wheels on our way into Boston, and we are now in New York, and I thought a summary was due.
FAC,s (frequently asked questions)
1. How far each day... as little as 7 kms and as much as 77 kms. Over 60 demands that I have a mid day nap, hopefully under a tree.

2. where have you come from... Montreal, Quebec province, through Maine, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Connecticut and New York State

3. What about the hills... well even thought we crossed the Appalachians we have not said, Oh the hills, except when it was very hot and muggy.

4 Where do you stay. 10 free camps, (gardens or by the road), 14 Warm Showers hosted, (and huge fun)10 paid camps and B and The generosity of people when we fall into their gardens and ask to camp is amazing

5 Best buy. A 40 minute bus ride, with bikes for $1 each.

6 Treats. Hereschoff boat building museum, Mystic Sea Port, Boston Institute of Modern Art, Ferry ride to Cape Cod, Niagara falls, lots of swims and more.

7 Lucky breaks, the hurricane which veered off course at the last minute, countless careful drivers and hosts going far beyond the expectation of Warm Showers.

Finding a Camp

Its a hot afternoon, we'd stayed on at a camping ground near Leeds in Maine, a bus camper on the next site, had offered us the use of his Canadian Canoe, and we found this too tempting to let slide.

It was near midday when we left the camp.
Not very interesting country, a late stop at a Supermarket and no offers for a place to put our tent, we got on the road and were put straight into a decent hill, climbing up from a river valley.

I was keeping an eye out for country dwellers out in their gardens, no one in sight, then a few kilometres along I saw a mailbox with something like a stuffed poo bear sticking its head out of a box, two women sitting on a balcony 100 m off the road,

“What about them” I called back to Val, she surprised me by saying

“They look a bit too alternative” - just the reason I thought they were worth a try, by this time we were well past and tooling along nicely, even though the heat was still in the air. Another shorp hill, the road taking a curving right hand bend, two minor roads running off to the left

“What about the forest down the side road” Val called,

I was looking at a horsey establishment on our side of the road and continued on. Val had got off the bike and was pushing it the last bit of the hill,there was a man shoving his snow plow into his garage on the other side of the road. Looking back I waved my arm thinking Val would see me, and rode up Mr Snow Ploughs drive.

“Hullo, we are from New Zealand on a cycle tour and are looking for a small pathc of grass to put our small tent for the night”.

“Uh, we don't really have much room here”he said, trying to ignore the one or two acres of mowed grass either side of the house, "maybe the horse place on the other side of the road would be a better ask. There's your wife just going past now”.

Just as well he spoke, Val had obviously not seen my hand signal and was just about at top pace chasing me, when I called to her. Just as she arrived on the drive, Mrs Snow Plough came out the front door, maybe she would be more forthcoming.

“These folk are from New Zealand honey; looking for a place to camp, I just suggested the horse farm over the road, they have more space than us”.

“New Zealand?” she exclaimed, “”Where all the sheep come from. I know that because I am a Spinner”,
Val pricked up her ears, and looked for an opportunity to claim a point of interest. (There's a subtle phychology to begging for shelter) We were then deflated by
“ No we have not got a lot of room here really”. I swear I heard the ride-on mower in the shed give a sigh of disbelief!

Just then a ute drove into the Horse Farm and we decided to head that way. Twenty minutes later we had the billy on and the tent up, with tea underway, tucked in behind the horse stables and alongside the post and rail corral, we were “home”for the night.



Camping at Carol's Horse Stud, somewhere north of Portland, Maine , with 45 pawing and kicking companions alongside us for the night.

Val Hangs Out The Washing

 

Clearly the best way to dry the washing is on ones helmet. And I do think the a display of wet underwear draped about the bike when parked must be a good burglar deterrant.
We have enjoyed the luxury of washing machines at the many host houses, but I have fond memories of washing things in mountain streams here and there

 

There are new laws in the states we have traveled in, demanding that mororists give way to pedestrians and bikers. People are enthusiastic in their compliance, almost to the point of embarassment to us. We stop at an intersection, wondering which way to go, but when traffic has stopped in all directions we cross the road, even if its not the way we want to go. We are thankful and amazed by the courtesy of 99.99% of drivers.

 

George, our most generous host in Boston, biked with us down town to catch to ferry to Provincetown. He explained that bike çulture could be different in various parts of town. So in the more relaxed are round the varsity we learned to Salmon.... that is go agaist the flow of traffic in a one ay street. It was all OK while I was riding hard on Georges back wheel, ttusting to luck as we dipped and dived across main streets, in and out of cycle ways and underpasses. Thanks George and Judy for a fun stay,(including Scrabble American size... (21 squares each way)