Hoping for a Tail Wind

The tour magic continues, as Mateo and his mama roll out the breakfast red carpet for us. We all agree to sleep late and just ride the afternoon. I still wake up at 6am, feeling mega refreshed despite the brutal mileage and heat the day before. My Raleigh Sojourn requires a solid cleaning. The weather report calls for afternoon showers. I consult the morning holy trinity (☕️ 💩 🎒) and get to getting the gunk out of my drive train before packing up. Two hours later we’re all up and activated and chowing down on some amazing bacon and eggs.

Our half a day strategy is by design. Rain is in the forecast. Chad needs a bike shop. I wanna catch up with a bike friend I met years ago when she was touring through Buffalo. Plus! Mateo is joining us! Yes. We’re adding one more to our roaming pack of animals (…pretty sure it’s pronounced aminals). He loads up an impressive rig and puts on his Bernie hat and I couldn’t be happier. I refer to him as the freshman and to our crew as the Fab Five.

Time out.

After breakfast, the rain starts coming in. Its getting heavier, so move out toward New Paltz with a 30-40ish mile day in mind. Final destination tee bee dee. Camp somewhere USA. We hit the bike shop and then head over to hang with Junko and her husband Dave. The skies open up and we take refuge in their house over coffee and snacks. Junko and I met back in 2014. Dave is a straight up bad motherfucker. Sea Bee in Vietnam. Among other things, his front yard includes: Metal shop. Wood shop. Japanese gardens. He’s got a frigging excavator in the backyard and regards it as a tool. Nice stop.

Time in.

The rain let’s up a bit and after a supermarket stop we skidaddle in the waltz with St Paltz. County road 7 for a bit. Yes. Ugh. Fucking fuckity fuck. These are the hardest climbs yet. They turn and keep going up. Only Daniel and I don’t walk up a hill. Chad doesn’t have a tiny touring gear (aka a granny gear) and absolutely loves to fly ahead of the formation. But when we hit a total ass kicker of a hill and I pass him at 3 mph (and have any breath left – at best a 50/50 thing), I belt out “Chad ain’t got no granny gear, doo dah doo dah. Chad stays walking a up the hill. All doo dah day!”. He’s alone in not being amused by my talents.

Game off.

When’s the last time you saw a barn with a Scarface fountain out front?

Game on.

The last stretch is most downhill and the sunset really makes all the sweating and ass busting worth it. The rain stops altogether. The sun has come out under the clouds and is starting to set. I feel like Scarlet Johansson is whispering, “the suns getting low big guy”, only me passing out is Banner turning Hulk. Looking around for services, we plan to hit some KOA because despite smelling like hot funk, we care about hygiene. They usually have nice showers. At our last gas station we reassemble, gassed but not needing gas. Some Interweb research later and knowledge reigns down: we are relatively close to NYC so covid19 has tent camping not allowed. Bathhouses closed. We consider an ambush (or show up and act dumb) but I find a county park on the map. We roll in as it’s getting dark. Set up under a pavilion and we find a outlet. No water though. Dinner and music and stank round out the evening. Snoring ensues…

Spoiler alert. We ride 94 miles after waking up hungover AF, so today’s blog isn’t going to be very good. Just read yesterday’s entry again or something.

Or not. Whatevers.

I wake up and my head is pounding. Motherfucking hard core pounding. Too much beer and too much pizza and too much celebrating our successful smashing down the Erie Canalway Trail in 5 days. Approximately 25% of the ride mileage. Now on to leg two: adventure cycling our asses down to DC through the Delaware Water Gap.

I force myself up and out of the tent and fire up some coffee. Everyone is dragging ass and it’s definitely the quietest morning in camp yet, so I know I’m not alone in my category. No jokes. No plans. Just focus and pain. We pull ourselves together and bid Jeff adieu – then bounce down the Henry Hudson. We skirt alongside Albany – New York’s capital – content to focus our sights on the nations capital a week or so away. We don’t stop to moon Cuomo. Shucks. Daniel and Chad are smartiepantses when it comes to history and learning. Daniel motherfucks Rockefeller as we roll along; calling him out with fact after fact after fact. Not only is he a capitalist pig here in New York but also for destroying his hometown too, or as he puts it, “peeling Buenos Aires like a banana.” We find a breakfast truck and devour egg cheese and bacon sandwiches. The history and politics fade away into caloric bliss. Tour score.

We hit route 9 for a long stretch now. This is no longer a canal trail. Hills. Hills. Hills. They kick our ass. Then they do it again. Then again. This shit is horrendous. Grueling. Painful. The heat. The hangover. The climbs. We take a break in the tiny city of Hudson. It’s got cute little cafes with patio only seating. I eat a second sandwich and take a 5 minute nap in the city park. Then we move on for more hills and more heat. My headache has finally begun fading.

22 midday miles and we take a break for water/electrolytes/calories/electricity. We’re all delirious and exhausted beyond our own recognition. I can see it in everyone’s face. We don’t wanna ride but we’ve got more ground to cover. We’re all face deep on our phones when I become the fucking scapegoat for being on the guy on his phone. My hangover is just ending and now this bullshit. I threaten to kick Chad in the nuts for mocking my blogging. “I’m not doing this for anyone else” he says. Asshole. If you have his number, text him the flag of the nation of Chad emoji (🇹🇩) plus the nuts emoji ( 🥜 ) plus the foot emoji (🦶🏽). Or post it as a comment here and I’ll make him read it.

I take a shot of coffee and we get a move on. We cross the Hudson once more and boogie on down to Kingston. We find a rail trail and continue southbound toward New Paltz. We arrive in the early evening to find out that both New Paltz and nearby High Falls have streets with the same name – and Daniel’s friend Mateo lives on the one in High Falls. 13 miles back.

Science damn it.

10 miles ago it was let’s ride an extra couple to make it century! All gung ho. Or hung go. Depends on your autocorrect. But now we’re all not feeling a single more mile. We find a Mexican restaurant and grab chips and cervezas. Daniel is Talking with Mateo. Mateo and his brother in law save the day, showing up in a couple SUV wagons with roof racks. We load up and hitch rides back to his place. Worth it. His spread of land is amaze balls. We eat a feast and sit by a fire. Everyone snores hard that night.

Riding in this 2×2 matrix formation makes us kinda like a car with four passengers. But way better. We play music. We chat and joke. The matrix formation also brings into my mind a bit of cross quadrant segmentation analysis (was that even a thing before just now?). Daniel and I have the long touring experience. I actually met him few years after my Northern Tier Tour, gave him my maps and then he rode it in the opposite direction. Chad and Damon have zero touring days in the saddle whatsoever. They’re jumping in head first. They have previously connected in Amsterdam, Netherlands on a trip I planned for Damon’s bachelor party a few years ago. Chad and Daniel know each other through a mutual friend and are both teachers. I’ve already documented my background with Damon previously in this blog. And Damon and Daniel are brand new friends. We all fit together in different way. We’re all fucking weird as shit and out riding hard as fuck together.

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I sleep better than I have in weeks. But when climb out of my tent to drain the main vein, I’m overcome with how damn cold it is. I mean frigid. Cold!! I dash back into my sleeping bag and curl up. Ow! Curling up leads to cramping up. I lay there another 20 minutes when I hear someone rustling around. Chad is up. In my best Cartman impression, I yell “but mom! I don’t wanna go to school!” I succumb and put my long sleeve cotton shirt on and climb out. Daniel has a little fire going. Chad is making coffee. Damon wrestles with his tent. Sip sip. Plop plop. Fill up the waters and we’re out.

We whip off 40 morning miles on off road Erie Canalway trail. Lots of tree coverage. Fantastic riding. Little towns along the route, probably packed with working class residents adept at voting against their own self interests. Our on ride chats get a little political, but only in normal American argument sense. It’s clear none of us cares much for dysfunctional government, whether it’s consider right or left. State level Democratic or federal level Republican. It’s all horseshit. Only I’m now currently smelling horseshit as we roll by a farm… and horseshit is much better.

I can state with authority that I’ve bicycled from Rome to Amsterdam in two days. And damnit, it’s pronounced Ahm-schtar-dahm. Daniel asks a stranger walking her dog how long to Holland? She’s doesn’t get it. We spot a cafe right along the trail. Damon and Daniel, in this Amsterdam coffee shop, after we’ve been joking about cannabis bars. It’s like a tv sitcom. Their personalities definitely make for an ultimate odd couple. I expect them to harass the shops cashier about “the other menu”. But we’re again tamed by fresh produce, cool AC and hot coffee. And somehow someway it was filled with nothing but beautiful and happy women the entire time.

Chad and Damon are chatting in this cafe about how nice people have been to us along the way. They’re simply in awe of the amount of people who have helped us out. I’ve seen it and witnessed, so while I don’t take it for granted whatsoever, I’m not nearly as shocked as they are. Daniel has experienced it as well. He calls it tour magic. I cannot disagree. 10 miles later we’re looking to rejoin the off road path and didn’t think we’d be crossing some gravelly railroad tracks when I woman holding a machete walks up. She asks “you looking for the bike path” while swinging the machete around a bit. We affirm. And she lets us know to indeed cross the tracks. Can’t make this shit up. Trail magic.

We’re cooking with gas along this here Erie Canalway trail today. When I say gas, I don’t mean the bullshit fracked out of the earth – I mean my own flagellation. Damon got me eating vegan food or sumfin. We stop in Schenectady. Damon and Daniel hit the cafe. Chad and I walk a block and behold! Chad’s childhood home. Ages 0-8. I snap a photo of him in front of it. We stop for Italian lemon ice. Later down the road we all stop for a refreshing dip in the river. This is a good day.

Jeff is our warm shower for the night. Somewhere just outside of Albany. The tour magic runs high, as he literally rides out (and uphill) to meet us. Jeff is as weird as we are, and works for NYS DOT. So we’re talking trail infrastructure and bikes and trains. We do some laundry and take showers. Luxury!!! Our tents are set up in Jeff’s backyard. We celebrate riding across the state with pizza and beer. After a couple beers I’m even happier to bend Jeff’s ear about getting more train/bike connection in New York State. Jeff’s hospitality is just another example of the tour magic. After another beer I realize it’s like 10pm – well past the usual bedtime. So I dive and it’s lights out on day 5.