Clyde to Cleveland to Pymatuning & Home!

Our ride from Clyde to Cleveland included some beautiful views of Lake Erie. There are a number of lovely towns right on the shore, so we found a great place where we could eat lunch outdoors. At the next table were a woman and her daughter just finishing up. They had the usual questions about the bike and the trip, and after we covered those things, we heard a little about their background. One of my favorite lines from the whole trip came out of that conversation. The woman was 83, a WWII bride from Prague. She still had a little Czech accent, and her daughter was the second youngest of seven children.

The woman, whose name we never caught, explained that in Czechoslovakia she had been trained to be a teacher. So eventually she wanted to go back to teaching. So when her youngest was a year old, as she put it, "I said to my husband, 'Enough with the kids already!" When she looked into it, she found that Ohio wouldn't accept her degree from Czechoslovakia so she went to get a four-year college degree. She was, for some reason, determined that she would teach the full 35 years, so she did not retire until she was 79! Then, she subbed for three more. She taught first grade all that time. Amazing.

The road we were on periodically had a bike lane, which gave us a buffer from traffic. The only problem was that it would disappear without warning. The lake shore road carried its share of traffic, since we were essentially in a resort area. But both the views of the lake and the mansions along the shore made the sight-seeing worthwhile.

We reached Cleveland via a bike route that twisted and turned at first, but finally straightened out enough to bring us within blocks of our hotel. It was obvious that bike-commuting is much more popular there than in hilly Pittsburgh. We had made reservations at the Holiday Inn in the middle of town. It is in a restored old bank building, with marble floors and a gorgeous lobby, but really old and small elevators. Since we couldn't cram the tandem into one of the elevators, we wheeled it up a ramp and they kept it in the office for us. (I removed the Pittsburgh flag we had on it, so as to reduce temptation!) It was a shame we couldn't take it to the room, since our room was so big we probably could have ridden it in there. It was a great treat after the string of motels we had just completed.

Our friends Pat and Dale had enthusiastically agreed to meet us for dinner, for two reasons: we hadn't seen them in quite a while and we were planning to eat at Fat Fish Blue, a Cajun restaurant which was also one of their favorites. After all the bland, beige food of the Midwest, we enjoyed our jambalaya and collards to the hilt. Afterwards we strolled down E. 4th St. for dessert and music. All in all, it was a great way to enter our own universe again.

Ironically, the next day's ride was by far the most difficult of the whole trip. Who knew that there are rollercoaster hills between Cleveland and Pymatuning. It was hot, the road was fairly busy and narrow for most of the way, and by the time we reached Chardon for lunch, we were ready for a break. As luck would have it, I also had a sinus headache, which makes me unconsciously clench my shoulders. We rode around the square and spotted a Chinese restaurant and a pizza shop. We pulled over near a beauty salon, outside of which was a woman with a massage chair. She recommended the pizza shop, and I realized that I could have a quick massage and lunch -- bonus!! It turned out that the pizza-by-the-slice wouldn't be ready for about 10 minutes so I fit in a wonderful relaxing massage and then had gourmet pizza. My headache was gone by the end of lunch.

A man we talked to on the square as we prepared to leave assured us that we had already done the most difficult of the riding. He was right; traffic eased up and the hills flattened out some between there and Pymatuning. We'd left our car at the house of our friends Vicki and Terry, and when we finally turned onto their street, it was with a definite feeling of accomplishment. We quickly broke down the bike and gear, loaded the car and headed over to Conneaut Lake, where Bob John and his mom were at their cottage. Bob had kindly agreed to let us use the shower there to make the drive back to Pittsburgh more pleasant. After showers and some great conversation with some of their friends, we made our way back home.

A stop for dinner on the way home had a celebratory feel, but also was in a way a letdown. During a trip like that, even in the towns on the TransAm where they see long-distance cyclists all the time, we ended up feeling like celebrities. Everyone had questions about the trip, the bike, and we had some great conversations. At the Log Cabin Inn on Rte 19, we were anonymous. Without our cycling gear, we blended in with the crowd. So, we've already started the plans for the final leg of the trip: Pymatuning to the Atlantic. Exactly what route we take and where we end up is still up in the air, but it will actually be the shortest piece of all. Looking at the U.S. map on which Bob marked our route so far, it's amazing to me that we have actually done it.