Last night I settled on a burger, chips, and a beer at a bar near the hostel in downtown Buffalo. This was after trying to buy Mexican food at a fast food place where the staff seemed indifferent. I was tempted to order a second round of food and beer after the day’s effort but decided to head back to my room to avoid getting caught in another downpour.

My hostel room had beds for 14. There were two people in it, both of us bike tourists. My roommate was starting his tour tomorrow, going to New York City via Albany.

In the morning I took off about 7:30 in search of breakfast. Downtown Buffalo doesn’t wake up until 8 so it was a while before my tummy was taken care of.

I rode south through downtrodden Lackawanna. As I proceeded into Orchard Park the houses became nicer and the business went from tattoo parlors and bars to medical practices and chain retail stores.

I looked and looked for a diner until my tummy forced me to eat breakfast at McDonalds. It’s actually good, inexpensive, and fast so I can’t deny that it was a good choice.

After Orchard Park came some more suburban riding, now in the rain, until I reached the town of Hamburg. The rain stopped so I did some shopping. I hit a grocery store for on-bike food and a bike shop for some chamois cream (to protect my bum).

After blowing an hour in Hamburg I took the very pleasant Pleasant Avenue to Old Lake Shore Drive along the south shore of Lake Erie.

The riding all day was nearly hill-free but as the day went on the winds, headwinds increased.

Near The town of Derby I checked out a Frank Lloyd Wright house called Graycliff. I tried to get a look at the house from the parking area but it was deliberately screened from view by a tall hedge. not wanting to spent a bunch of time and money checking out a house I’d never heard of I went back to the business of riding.

In Lake Erie Beach I went to the grill at a public golf course. The cook was playing golf so no lunch for me.

Riding along the shore is frustrating because so much of it is in private hands. Many of the lakeside estates were decades old making me think that this area was a summer escape for railroad barons and industrialists.

I traversed the Cattarragus Resevation where cigs, weed, and gasoline are a bargain.

In Silver Creek I stopped for a late lunch. Massive burger, fries, and iced tea.

After eating I researched hotel choices near Dunkirk, about ten miles away. There were several that were relatively inexpensive but some of the reviews were nasty. I decided to choose the only hotel that was in my line of travel.

It turned out to be a much nicer place than the reviews had indicated. Unfortunately, getting to the hotel involved a 13-mile slog into a 20-mph headwind. At least it wasn’t raining.

The hotel turned out to be quite nice. It even has a restaurant which allowed me to avoid a walk into town. This is important because it started to rain again.

There’s another bike tourist in the hotel. He’s headed to Chicago from Boston.

Time for some sleep. Next stop Erie, PA or beyond.

Miles today: 61

Tour miles: 2,048.5

I woke up with the birds, sort of. As usual I barely slept but somehow it was 5 a.m. the weather forecast called for thunderstorms at 8 so I packed up my things grateful that everything was dry.

I said goodbye to The Erie Five and headed west on the canal for Lockport. It was a pretty ride but the towpath surface was muddy in spots making for slow going.

In Lockport the path is paved. At the very end of the canal the path goes straight up. I mean a 10% grade or steeper for a few hundred feet. I went to shift into my granny and the chain wouldn’t move. I resorted to pushing The Mule up the hill. I realized that the wet limestone grit on the trail had gummed up my front derailer.

At the top of the hill I started looking for a hose to get the grit out. Unbelievably, the town had a little park set up for canal riders, and in it was a hose hooked up to a fire hydrant. The hydrant had a pressure reducing valve attached to keep people from damaging their bikes. It worked like a charm, freeing up the movement in the front derailer.

Next up was breakfast. Lockport has some sketchy looking diners. After two duds I found a good one and ate eggs and sausage and toast and home fries washed down with coffee.

After breakfast came more bike maintenance. I cleaned and lubed the chain and put drops of lube on the cables to free them up.

I hit the road, traveling due west for the Lewiston-Queenston bridge to Canada. The skies were darkening. I stopped to put on my rain jacket. A man in his driveway told me a bad storm was coming and I should seek shelter. He suggested at a gas station about a mile ahead on the Tuscarora Reservation. He said that after that there was nothing for miles.

I took my chances and kept riding past the gas station. What rain there was was very light. The road took me straight to the bridge to Canada. After 15 minutes in line, I was admitted to the Great White North without ceremony.

After a bit of confusion getting out of the border complex I found the Niagara River Trail that took me north past massive hydropower operations and a botanical garden.

A few miles late I arrived at “The Falls” as the road signs say. The place was very crowded as expected so I walked The Mule past American and Horseshoe Falls.

It took quite a while to extricate me from the crowd. Every time I thought I was clear of the throng a bus would stop and disgorge another wall of people.

Once clear of the tourists in switched to the Niagara River Parkway. Traffic was very light and I started making good time until the black clouds ahead and I met.

Pouring cold rain with thunder, and eventually lightning, mixed in for atmosphere.

In no time I was soaked. The only thing to do was to keep pedaling do I did. It was a residential area with no place to shelter except an ice cream parlor. I feared that if I stopped I’d get hypothermia so I kept plowing into the storm.

At the Peace Bridge to Buffalo I was a good boy and walked The Mule. It must have been a mile. Customs and Immigration was by the numbers, soon I was following my Google master to the hostel smack in the middle of downtown and only a mile or so off route.

I promptly threw all my clothes into the washing machine and took a hot shower.

What a day. At least I can now say I’ve ridden outside the U.S.

Tomorrow promises more rain. Why not?

Miles today: 64

Tour miles: 1,987.5

Today was a day filled with variety. After a sound night’s sleep I slogged four miles into Fairport for breakfast. I ate at Riki’s, a family restsurant that I ate at in 2004 on my Erie Canal west to east tour. Country fried steak, home fries, two eggs over east, Texas toast, and coffee. It was the best diner breakfast I’ve had on this trip.

After eating I hit the canal trail. It was warm and muggy but that didn’t diminish the trail traffic one bit. When I wasn’t dodging people, I was riding through massive gaggles of Canada geese. There were goslings of every stage of development mixed in with the adults. The goslings seemed to be older the further west I went.

The path in most places was hard packed dirt with crushed limestone and geese poop on top. I’m serious. I’ve never seen so much geese poop.

Pittsford was the next town. It’s a bit bougie and the canal was very busy so bikes are shunted off to the town streets, past all the cute little shops.

After Pittsford came the great Rochester bypass. The trail is paved but in pretty nasty condition. Root heaves, some marked, some not, gave me plenty of jolts.

The canal trail mixes with other trails in this area so I am grateful that somebody thought to put yellow arrows on the pavement to keep through riders on course.

After Rochester the trail conditions improved. I waved at a passing packet boat. Rowers we’re learning how to use a shell.

I stopped and talked with an eastbounder. Mike had started in Los Angeles. He was headed to the Gaspe Peninsula then onward by plane for two more months in Europe. I noticed that his hand had tremors. I didn’t ask but wondered if he had Parkinson’s.

I stopped in Spencerport for lunch and bought some water and lunch at a grocery store. The humidity has been riding and I didn’t realize that I was getting dehydrated.

The next couple of hours featured some wonderful riding on the canal. Ah, but storm clouds were looming ahead. After Brockport it started to rain.

And rain and rain. The trail surface became harder and harder to ride on. The added resistance of the wet limestone slowed me considerably.

A woman was waiting out the rain under a bridge. She told me of a new hotel near Medina just a few miles further. After a few more miles of slogging I looked it up on my phone. $150+ tax. Nope.

As luck would have it, a few miles later the rain came to an end. A tailwind started nudging me along. And the trail seemed to be dryer with each passing mile. The sun came out.

I met up with a group of two adults and three kids, aged 14, 13, and 10. They were riding the trail end to end. They had gotten soaked just like me and seemed to be having a blast.

After some very tough trail riding through Medina, I came to Middleport where five eastbounders were discussing next steps. One of them learned from a bridge attendant that we could camp on the opposite side of the canal with electricity, bathrooms, and showers for a $20 donation.

By now the ground had dried and the sun was still shining so I joined them in camp. It turns out they one of them had been through Wisdom, Montana the same day as Corey, Mark, and me last summer. He and his friends were riding east and we were riding west. He swears he remembers seeing us go by. None of us remember him but he knew details of the day (a stranded father and son trail riders, a bazillion mosquitos). What a weird coincidence.

I had pizza for dinner and an finally got in my tent 9:30. It looks like tonight will be dark and stormy. And tomorrow will be stormy too. I booked a bed in a hostel in Buffalo for tomorrow night. But first I need to finish the canal and then slip into Ontario for some waterfall fun.

Oh, and The Mule hit 72,000 miles today.

Miles today: 70

Tour miles: 1,923.5

While writing yesterday’s post, I conked out for 2 1/2 hours. I woke up and finished the post around 11:30 last night. While I was writing two sirens went off outside. I figured it was just the volunteer fire department summoning its members. Only 12 hours later did I realize that it was a test of the accident sirens for the nuclear power plant a few miles away on the shore of Lake Ontario.

In the morning I walked to the diner next door in the rain. I had eggs, bacon, home fries, and coffee augmented by a single pancake.

After fueling I packed up and carried all my gear down to the lobby. Then I half carried, half rolled The Mule down the stairs. At 9, I loaded up the bike and headed west in a misty drizzle or a drizzly mist. These things are hard to sort out.

Going east to west involves riding up and down small hills every mile or so. I think the bottoms are streams and creeks that glow to the lake. My legs did not appreciate the climbs. I turned north and headed to Sodus Point on the lake. It’s a typical waterfront place with marinas and bars catering to vacationers and weekenders.

After exploring greater metropolitan Sodus Point and gawking at the lake (which was socked in with misty fog or foggy mist) I headed west again.

I passed the site of a World War II prisoner of war camp. It was a small operation that was only used for a couple of years. All through the day I passed houses that were shelters for escaped enslaved people on the Underground Railroad. This is the northern part of Harriet Tubman’s route to freedom in Canada. (Runaways had a bounty on their heads. Nowhere in the United States was safe.)

After 25 miles I stopped for first lunch, a fish sandwich, coleslaw, a bag of chips, and an unsweetened iced tea.

The mistiness had turned to warm-and-mustiness as I rode away from the lake. The forecast called for intermittent rain. I had tried to get a Warmshowers host but was turned down. After eating I booked a motel near Macedon, just off route.

Then I headed south. Adios, Lake Ontario. The route was mostly between the annoying hills making for easy going. This area is notably more densely populated than the Adirondack foothills that I rode through yesterday. It is also more agricultural.

Most of the crops are just getting started. There are many fruit orchards, presumably apples (I can’t tell an apple tree from a pear tree from a peach tree). Other than some hay, the only other crop that I could identify was hops.

After 40 miles I stopped for second lunch at a Byrnes Dairy gas station in Palmyra. I wanted a roast beef sandwich but all they had was ham. I had half a ham and cheese sandwich (which is the size of a normal ham and cheese sammie) and saved the other half for dinner. I also had a cup of ice cream and a Diet Pepsi.

I took the canal towpath another seven miles west before hitting NY Bike Route 5 to the hotel. (Bike Route 5 is an on-road alternative to the canal.)

The motel is fine. My room is on the first floor. There is no continental breakfast offered so I’ll ride to Fairport, a canal town, got breakies tomorrow.

My planned destination for tomorrow was Brockport but that is barely 40 level miles from here. I think I’ll just ride to the end of the canal at Lockport. This will put me about 20 miles from the bridge to Ontario for Monday.

Miles today: 55

Tour miles: 1,853.5

All that climbing I’ve been doing takes a whole bunch of downhill miles to undo. And I undid them today.

Once again I slept poorly even though my room could not have been better. At six, I walked down the hall to the breakfast room. I was pleased to see some decent food for a change. I had scrambled eggs, sausage links, two bowls of Cheerios, and three cups of coffee. I grabbed an apple and a banana for the road and got to work.

The first half of the day was a repeat of yesterday: a slight downhill grade for miles and miles interrupted by a few, short climbs. I had a steady tailwind, too. The skies were overcast but not threatening. Temperatures and the relative humidity rose gradually throughout the day. Temps topped out around 80 degrees.

This is Amish country. I dodged horse poop and saw horseshoe marks and cart tracks in the road all day. At one home I saw a girl, about four years old. She had on a dark bonnet and dark dress that covered everything except her hands and face. She looked joyless.

The woods are now broken up by homes on big lots. The houses looked lived in, in some cases they are run down. Winters are hard on houses up here.

I cruised through West Leyden and down into Osceola on the Salmon River. The climb back up was a thigh burner. In Redfield I stopped to refuel. A chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich revived my blood sugar levels.

I continued through Orwell (again!), Richland, and Pulaski. I arrived at Port Ontario, my planned destination, after 51 miles. It was 11:45 a.m.

I went into a gas station convenience store and had a slice of pizza and an iced tea. If I walked across the road, I could check into a motel (vacancy sign displayed). I thought this would be a waste of a good afternoon of riding so I decided to continue on to Fulton where there is a Motel 6.

I was seriously thinking of riding down to the Syracuse area for better lodging options. If I did that I’d wouldn’t bother returning to the Northern Tier route, opting to take the Erie Canal west instead.

I thought it would be a good idea to see Lake Ontario before turning south so I rode a mile north to Mexico Bay Beach. I had ridden about 52 miles to this point.

I re-assessed my lodging options. Ride off route south to Baldwinsville and get a room at a Microtel hotel. Continue on the route and stay at a Motel 6 in Fulton. Find something on route beyond Fulton.

Fulton was the closest at around 70 total miles but its hotel had scathing reviews online. Nope.

Baldwinsville was 31 miles away. Maybe.

I checked places after Fulton. A B&B in Fair Haven wanted over $240. Not gonna happen.

I tried a hotel in Walcott not realizing how far away it was. They had a room in an old building above a bar, like Raquette Lake. It was $50. I took it.

Now to get there. Wolcott was another 52 miles away.

Texas. New Haven. The road was back to having rolling hills. The wind was now at my side or in my face.

Once I committed to the room I stopped thinking about the day’s total mileage and focused more on the minute by minute business of the riding.

I arrived in Fulton and stopped at Byrne Dairy, a gas station with a convenience store and deli. I ordered a turkey sandwich. It was HUGE. I could only eat half. I saved the rest for dinner. (I did this yesterday but never took that half eaten sandwich out of the mini refrigerator. What a tip for the cleaning crew.)

Granby Center, Hannibal, Sterling, and Fair Haven were separated by rolling hills.

Finally, after 103 1/2 miles I arrived at Wolcott. The hotel gave me a room on the third floor. I checked in and lugged The Mule and my stuff up to my room. My legs were seriously spent.

Today was my first century on a tour since 2018 when I did 132 miles in North Dakota.

I cleaned up and went to the bar. It was a smoker’s bar. Everyone in it was smoking a cig. There must have been 20 ashtrays in the place. All of them had been used. Ugh.

I went for a walk and found a grocery where I bought a few things to complement my sandwich. I sat at a table in the hotel’s covered porch and ate in the rain while watching small town America pass by.

My target destination for tomorrow is Sodus Point in the lake. It’s about 13 miles away from Wolcott so I’m at reassessing my destination. With rain in the forecast, I have a Warmshowers request for Pittsford on the canal near Rochester. In any event, finding a hotel should be easy.

Miles today: 103.5

Tour miles: 1,798.5

Short of having a 25 mph tailwind, today could not have been better. But let’s start with last night…

I stayed at a hotel that was above a bar/restaurant. The building dated to the 1920s and the rooms hadn’t been updated. I felt like I was sleeping in a room in my grandparent’s house in Freehold, NJ. Not coincidentally that house was built in the early 1900s.

There was a long steep staircase with a handrail on the left to the second floor. It occurred to me that back in the day there might have been some sportin’ women up yonder.

I humped my gear up in several trips. The Mule was left for last. I hefted it up there without incident but my lower back was screaming at me once I set it down.

I took a couple of Advil and sat down on the squeaky double bed to let the medicine do its thing. In addition to the bed, my room had a small nightstand, a dresser, and an old wooden desk chair. The two windows were stuck open and only partially screened, with a gap at the bottom. The bathroom was shared with the room across the hall which was vacant for the night. The toilet was manufactured by Gerber, a manufacturer that I’ve not heard of. The sink, faucet, and claw foot bathtub looked just like Grandpop’s house. I was beginning to think there might be a nook with a treadle sewing machine or a Victrola with a stack of 78s next to it down the hall.

After cleaning myself up and stuffing towels in the window gaps, I had dinner in the bar. The Italian wedding soup and chicken Caesar wrap weren’t very good but the Labatt Blue made up for it.

In the morning, after a hearty breakfast of two frosted cherry pop tarts, I hauled all my stuff back down the stairway of certain death. I waited for the sportin’ woman to give me assistance but she must have been sleeping in. I hefted The Mule and thankfully made an effortless, uneventful descent.

As I was loading my bike, a woman popped out of the restaurant kitchen and offered to sell me coffee and fresh baked goods. She’s a retired school teacher who makes some money baking. Her coffee was fine, but her blueberry muffin, fresh from the oven, was truly superb.

The restaurant stopped serving breakfast last week because they can’t find any help. Later, I tried to buy chamois cream (for bicycle butt) at an outdoors shop in Old Forge. The very busy owner said they don’t have a bicycle person on staff anymore to buy bike merchandise. He can’t find anyone who will work. He blamed the labor problem on Air B&B which he said is crowding out housing in the area.

Before leaving town I read a few of the many historical signs. Raquette Lake used to be quite the place with a railroad station and another hotel. They both burned many years ago. It turns out Theodore Roosevelt summered nearby a Sagamore Hill. (I didn’t go see it; touring times are limited.)

Leaving Raquette Lake I turned onto NYS Highway 28, a two-lane highway with broad paved shoulders. Mostly the pavement is in very good shape but here and there I encountered problems. Longitudinal cracks can grab a tire at the edge between the main road and shoulder. Fresh loose asphalt stones from this morning’s sloppy patch jobs stuck to my tires and went spinning annoyingly up into my fenders.

As I suspected, the ride was a gradual downhill, mostly about one percent grade. With perfect weather it took very little effort to spin along at 12 mph. From time to time, I had to negotiate a brief climb but granny served me well.

At ten miles, the town of Inlet offered nothing so I kept cruising. I missed a turn, staying on Highway 28 on the north side of a lake. No worries, the road rejoined the route at west end of the lake at the town of Old Forge. I’d been here before with my family and kids. In peak summer season, it’s a mobbed tourist magnet. We saw people feeding wild black bears on the side of the road and could only wonder how they (the people) had escaped the laws of natural selection.

As I rolled into town a Jeep with bikes on a rear rack went by. The rearmost bike had flopped over and was being dragged by the end of its handlebar. I veered behind the jeep and started yelling and waving maniacally. The driver clued in and stopped, saving the bike from an unpleasant demise.

I stopped at a diner for second breakfast: gravy and biscuits (the menu had it backwards) with a side of home fries, and coffee. I struck up a conversation with two Kiwis who were in the area for the summer. They wanted to know where to go. Niagara Falls, Ithaca gorges, New York City, Boston, and Newport all made the list. Montreal would have been good had I thought of it.

After stopping at a drug store for toothpaste and bug spray (which I hope not to get mixed up) I cruised down Highway 28 through Thendara. At 30 miles I came fast down a hill to a bridge over the Moose River. I hit the brakes when I saw the bridge had an open steel deck. These give The Mule and me the heebie jeebies. The Mule and I walked across the deck. At the far end, the steel deck had a few missing pieces which could have swallowed my front tire and sent me flying.

I took a right on Moose Lake Road and pedaled along the river under a leafy canopy. Bicycle bliss.

The road had a couple of minor climbs made a bit harder by my daydreaming. (Oops. A hill! Hello, granny.)

As I descended into Boonville, my destination for the day, a family of geese walked across the road in front of me. One adult goose led the way followed by several goslings. Another adult goose pulled up the rear. I stopped and fumbled for my phone. By the time I had it in my hands the line had moved to the roadside. I did get a picture but it doesn’t capture the “Make way for goslings ” moment.

I cruised around Boonville. This place used to be home to an Ethan Allen furniture plant but that was years ago. It still has plenty of businesses but most of the infrastructure is old. Boonville is famous for getting ludicrous amounts of snowfall each winter.

I bought lunch at a cafe in town (it was not very good) then I rode to my motel just outside town. It’s a lovely looking place conveniently close to dairy with an ice cream parlor. I was tempted to try the wine ice cream but settled for my usual cookie dough.

The motel is surprisingly nice. Clean. Modern. Lots of comfy chairs in the lobby. A massive lawn dotted with Adirondack chairs. And, from the looks of it, a pretty good free breakfast tomorrow.

I walked back to town for a dinner on salad, spaghetti and meatballs (the menu said “meatball” but I was served two), and a Labatt.

On the way back I met up with another bike tourist staying at the motel. He’s credit-card touring (minimal gear) and did 100 miles into the wind today and looked knackered.

Tomorrow I plan to ride to Lake Ontario. Rain is forecast for the afternoon and the ensuing five days.

Miles today: 53

Tour miles: 1,695

I suppose I should have bought two cans of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs for dinner last night but I was distracted by the display of bagged junk food right next to the canned stuff. So it was unheated spaghetti and Doritos with iced tea for dinner. The camp assistant manager comped me a Slim Jim. (I ate it. It was disgusting.) By the time I finished I’m sure the mosquitos had extracted more nutrients than I took in.

I slept not a wink and have no idea why. I was comfortably warm and my camp site was level and soft.

Breakfast wasn’t much better. Two English muffins with PB&J. My onboard food was down to three Clif bars, two bananas, an apple, and one final English muffin PB&J. Google said there was a gas station six miles into the route and nothing else until Long Lake, 46 miles away.

Riding on inadequate fuel just doesn’t work. It’s like bonking for hours on end. I felt lethargic, my legs felt like lead, and I had a headache. And there was another monster hill about 10 miles into the day. Good thing the scenery was great, otherwise I would have called a cab.

There were plenty of critters during the day: wild and domestic turkeys, a couple of deer, mysterious sounding birds, a red squirrel, and a mini herd of buffalo.

In Newcomb I met two bicycle tourists who were on their second day of a ride around the Adirondacks. They were going to camp near Long Lake.

When I arrived in Long Lake they were eating at Stewart’s, upstate New York’s gas station and ice cream chain.

They left as I arrived hardly saying a word. I wonder if they use the Coldshowers app.

I bought something resembling food and started looking for a place to stay in either Long Lake or ten miles further in Blue Mountain Lake. (The Adirondacks are Minnesota East in the lake department.)

Google said the indoor places were either closed or prohibitively expensive ($300+). Campgrounds were several miles off route.

Then I got the idea to check out Raquette Lake, 13 miles past Blue Mountain Lake. They had a bar that served food and had cheap ($60) rooms. Bingo. An added, albeit somewhat masochistic, benefit was the fact that I’d do one of tomorrow’s climbs today.

I bought some ice cream which combined with a tailwind to nudge me another 24 miles.

As I rode I passed at least an dozen motels not mentioned by Google that had vacancies. Let’s just say I am losing my faith in the mother of all search engines.

According to the info on my maps, the mountainous part of the Adirondacks ends at Old Forge, which I should reach before noon. Word cannot convey how much I want to put the mountains behind me. I dream of long, level terrain with a tailwind pushing me along at 15 miles per hour. I dream of Kansas. I am losing my mind.

Miles today: 70

Tour miles: 1,642

I woke up at 5 a.m. on a wet bed. My neck and shoulders were in a puddle of sweat. 9 hours of dead-to-the-world sleep literally drained me. I rolled over onto a dry spot and conked out for another hour.

Once I was out of bed I made myself motel breakfast. I had gathered the components last night from the closet the motel calls the “breakfast nook.”

A wee sized bowl of Raisin Bran, a nectarine, a cherry yoghurt, a muffin, two cups of motel-room coffee and a pint of milk. Sounds like a lot but it wasn’t.

I rolled into Middlebury and hit the grocery store for a new razor, shaving cream, an apple, two bananas, and a pen.

Across the street was Middlebury Bagels so I had a mini second breakfast: real coffee and an everything bagel.

Properly fueled, I lit out on the route right through Middlebury College. Impressive place, I must say.

The route continued with an annoying number cod short climbs all the way to lower Lake Champlain where I caught the cable ferry to Ticonderoga, New York.

Today was supposed to be a zero day but I wanted to get back on schedule. My plan was to take it easy, go with the flow, and stop when the mood hit me.

After a roast beef sammie and an iced tea at a diner in Ticonderoga town, I headed west into the Adirondacks.

Eek.

I discovered that the map app on my iPhone shows elevation profiles. I selected a camp ground the route to which had 2,800 feet of climbing, much of it at the start.

And so for the next three miles I climbed a 4 to 5 percent grade, stopping as usual to let my body calm down from the effort. I was feeling a bit disoriented. After a couple of miles of this nonsense I remembered that I had an albuterol rescue inhaler in my handlebar bag.

Puff. Puff.

I felt the tension in my lungs ease up and could feel them expanding with each breath. The fog lifted from my weary head. What a maroon! I should have done this weeks ago.

I did the next 3/4ths of a mile without stopping. No problem!

Along the way I saw a deer lying in a field 100 feet off the road. A driver in a pick up with one of those ridiculously high front ends had hit him. A woman in a nearby driveway watched in sadness as the deer struggled to get up then plopped down again.

I rode to the top and pulled over to have a drink of water. I heard a bang in the distance behind me. Somebody’s having venison for dinner.

After that bit of drama the road leveled out nicely. I had completed my escape from the Champlain valley.

It is amazing what a difference that albuterol made today. I won’t hesitate to use it again.

I rode past Paradox and into Severance. In Severance I found a campground on route that was pretty nice for $30. Time to stop for the day.

I’m now only 6 miles shy of my original schedule. It looks like I’ll be able to find camping or a motel for the next couple of days. My only real concern is finding food along the route.

It’ll work out. It always does.

Miles today: 42

Tour miles: 1,572

As usual, I didn’t sleep all that well in my tent. At least I was comfortable.

After a breakfast of two PB&J English muffins and a banana, I left camp at around 6:30.

It was gloomy and cool, requiring my jacket and long pants. Again.

And, of course, I went up. It turns out I didn’t camp in Thetford Hill. Thetford Hill was another steep mile away.

After Thetford Hill I immediately rode downhill to Thetford Center. These hills separate river ways which means…

After Thetford Center came another short, steep climb requiring me to stop to get my breathing and heartbeat under control. Five miles into the ride and I’m already burning out.

Again I plunged down to a river but this time I took a road along its course. South Stratford, then three Royaltons (South, plain vanilla, and North), then Sharon where I stopped at a gas station deli for second breakfast. Alas, the portions were so small that it was ineffective in stoking my engine.

I was now following the White River upstream. It was mighty pretty and sounded good too. I kept following the White River, slogging boy way through Bethel, Gaysville, Stockbridge, and Rochester. Every so often the road would turn away from the river and I’d be grinding up yet another short steep hill. Ugh.

After Bethel the sun came out. I stopped to finally peel off my cold weather gear.

In Rochester I stopped at a country store where I had a wonderfully delicious turkey and cheese sandwich and an iced tea. It seem to revive me for a few miles. Before leaving town I stopped at a bike shop to top off the air in my tires.

Even with the sand which working its metabolic magic I could tell that my legs didn’t have their usual bounce.

More river tracing brought me to Hancock where I turned uphill toward the dreaded Middlebury Gap.

I was doing quite well for about five miles. Then the grade went from 4 percent to 9 percent. My granny and I persisted but it became very clear that if I wanted to get over this mountain with my knees and back intact I’d need to walk. It was my first walk since New York about three weeks ago.

I car pulled up and the shotgun passenger asked if I wanted a lift. I shook my head and grunted “I got this.”

Truth be told, This got me. The grade had to be 12 percent near the top. Even pushing The Mule required frequent stops.

At 3 p.m. the deed was done. There were no signs to pose under just the 12 percent truck-on-a-cheese wedge sign.

I put my jacket back on pointed The Mule down. I’m pretty sure I could have made it without breaking but not knowing the curves and dips and such I had to play it cool.

One thing I’ve learned on this ride is the smell of brake pads disintegrating.

I stopped a couple of times to make sure my rims weren’t overheating (this can cause a tire to explode which is not something I ever want to experience.

The steep part of the descent was over quickly. The rest of the descent had a few rollers in it, causing me to use my granny gears a few times.

I passed the Middlebury Snow Bowl which is ask venue created by Middlebury College on the 1930s and still very much in use. Next, I passed Bread Loaf, a Middlebury College retreat for writers, artists, and other creative people. All the buildings have a matching color scheme. Robert Frost taught here.

After Bread Loaf I came to Ripton where the road briefly declines 15 percent. As hard a time as I had getting over the Gap, I can’t imagine starting my climb with a 15 percent knee-wrecker like this.

As I crawled through East Middlebury, I knew I was running on fumes. Soon I spotted an A&W Drive In restaurant. A root beer float seemed the perfect ending to a brutal ride. (To be honest, the float couldn’t hold a candle to the root beer floats at the Dairy Godmother ice cream shop back home.)

I managed to squeeze The Mule into my very small room. Then I cleaned up and headed out on foot (glad I brought my cane) for a family restaurant about a half mile away where I inhaled a bowl of pea soup and a plate of spaghetti,

Tomorrow was a planned rest day (what Appalachian Trail hikers call a 0 day). I am a day behind schedule so I’m going to see how I feel in the morning. Psychologically, it would be good to get out of New England. I have no idea what the terrain is like going through the Adirondacks because my map set doesn’t have an elevation profile of that part. I hope this means no more monster climbs.

Miles today: 69

Tour miles: 1,530

I slept reasonably well in the hostel. I backtracked for breakfast at a place a mile east. I had eggs Benedict, home fries, toast, and coffee. The price was right but it didn’t sit well in my tummy.

After a bio break at the hostel, I hit the road.

Up.

The first eight miles involved a climb to Kinsman Notch where the Appalachian Trail crosses my route for the fourth and final time. The climb steepened near the top. Add a headwind and rain, and this made for serious work. I had to stop about five times. It was not much fun. At least I had the day’s 1,600-foot climb out of the way early.

I zipped up my jacket, put on my buff under my jacket’s hood, and slid on some long-fingered gloves for the descent out of the clouds. Visibility was much better than yesterday so I could actually enjoy the ride down. It was big fun especially when my helmet started lifting off from my head. (The straps had worked their way loose.)

I had two more short, steep climbs in the next ten miles. The rain had let up but the gloomy overcast and headwinds persisted.

In North Haverhill, after stopping for a gas station food snack, I turned south and the wind became my friend. But for a few climbs away from streams it was a reasonably flat ride to Orland, where I learned the bridge I was planning on using to cross the Connecticut River was closed. After a chicken-finger lunch and a resupply of my food stores, I crossed the river not 100 yards from the country store I had stopped at.

Goodbye New Hampshire. Hello Vermont.

I turned south on US 5, a two-lane highway between the river and I-91. With five miles to go, the impossible happened; the sun came out.

I descended an 8 percent grade into East Thetford then turned west to begin the climb away from the river.

My campground was at the top of a hill naturally. (Just another one I don’t have to climb tomorrow.) The ground is a bit damp but my tent site is quite nice. I even get to hear the white noise of the traffic on the interstate through the trees.

Tomorrow looks very much like today but longer and in reverse. I hadn’t noticed it before but the climb over Middlebury Gap looks very similar to the one over Kinsman’s Notch. I have booked a classic 1950s Vermont motel for tomorrow night. I expect it will be a long hard day.

Miles today: 49.5

Tour Miles: 1,496