Back to Schenectady

Leaving the Holiday Inn this morning was difficult, but at least we knew we had only about 35 miles to go. We had a great breakfast at the hotel, packed the bike and headed off. Most of the day's riding took place on very well-paved roads with wide shoulders. Eventually we hooked up with part of the Mohawk River Bike Trail. Bob and our friend Gary had ridden it years ago when they did the Erie Canal trip together. One of their rest stops was the Mabee Farm, the oldest standing house in the Mohawk Valley, built in 1680. We stopped for the tour, really the first tourist thing we'd done the whole time. The young lady who gave us the tour was very personable. She actually just moved up here two months ago from Missouri, happy to be out of the heat that we remember so well. She had to refer to her notes several times during the presentation, but her enthusiasm and obvious love of what she was doing more than made up for that. It was amazing to think that the original family that lived there had 10 children. They all lived in one small room! Someone descended from the original family owned the place until 1993; it was then rented and eventually given to the historical society for the purpose it serves now. Miraculously,in all those years no one ever did anything really stupid to ruin it. Much of the original structure is just as it has always been. It is very busy as a field trip destination, complete with re-enactors demonstrating sheep-shearing, blacksmithing, etc. as well as providing the setting (the barn!) for concerts weddings, etc. The barn has been moved there from another location and restored, but it is a Dutch-style barn, quite impressive. After our tour and wandering the grounds for a bit, we set off to finish the last 8 miles of the trip. Much of that was on the bike trail and we sailed into Schenectady without a hitch. We unloaded the bike and stashed our burden in the car, rode a lusciously light bike to lunch at Café NOLA, then proceeded to dismantle the bike for stowage in the car. That took a while, since we had to strategically arrange everything so as not to scratch the frame sections or get grease all over the inside of the Prius. After checking into the motel, we finalized our arrangements for three days in Manhattan. Life is good!

Saranac Lake

We are becoming so...mature! Yes, that's it - mature! Today was not an easy ride; jackets on, jackets off, clear lenses in, sun lenses in, clear lenses in. We rode for the first part of the day in fairly vigorous rain. We broke the day up by making stops (Bob is becoming addicted to Lipton's spiced chai teabags by the way) and between stops the sun actually came out. Backing up, we left the Magic Pines campground this morning after finishing the rest of Bob's roast beef sub to get us started. About 15 miles down the road, we stopped for breakfast in Keeseville, and continued toward Whiteface. We had asked a woman in a gas station about a good place to pick up breakfast, and she gave us directins to the place where she was headed. Then she commented, "And I'm a Steelers fan." She'd spotted the Pittsburgh flag on our trailer. She went on to explain that she'd gone to Duquesne in the '70s and then lived in Mt. Lebanon for a time. We continued or conversation at the restaurant, where we a couple who had lived in Beaver Falls for a time joined in. As we learned on our trek across the country, it's a small world. At our snack stop, we committed (or should I say we should be committed) to riding over the mountain instead of the 17-mile detour around. Now to be fair, the road doesn't go all the way to the top. There is a toll road that doesn't even allow bikes that does that last five mile winding steep trek to the top. But the four-mile ascent to the toll booth was quite the ride. Fortunately, we had a lot of company. People training for a triathlon to take place here in about a month were out on the road by the dozens today. Riding their 3 oz. racing bikes with 1-inch wide tires, they were bewildered and confused by the sight of two middle-aged touring cyclists pulling 100 lbs. of gear up the same mountain. They whizzed past us up the hills, but we smoked them on the down hills. Nonetheless, the four-mile ascent up to the Whiteface toll road was tough. We arrived in Saranac Lake glad we had a reservation at the Sara-Placid Motor Inn, which turned out to be splendid, and were happy to get cleaned up and settled for the night. After consulting with the owner of the motel, we decided on the Italian restaurant owned by Bosnians within walking distance. and we decided to spend an extra night here. It's a great motel, it's a beautiful town (once in another life, we considered living here), and our knees could use a rest. So, we might kayak tomorrow, or just relax and enjoy
the scenery while the storms finally pass through, and then continue on Monday. Ahhhhh!!!

Ticonderoga

Not quite so wet today. We left our very spacious accommodations with the skies overcast; we'd been out an hour or so when we had to pull over to put on rain jackets. The riding was good, though, and the rain not nearly like yesterday. It rained for about an hour, but not so hard, and by the time we made a stop (about 10:30) it had stopped. We switched lenses in our glasses several times, since the clouds didn't really let up, but the temperature was perfect for riding, about 70. Such a contrast to the last three trips when we weren't surprised to see the temps go over 100. As we rode today, we were reminded of why we fell in love with this area, our climbs were gradual and with wide vistas. The whole world smelled piney, and the water that either crashed past us or pooled into beautiful lakes had the amber color that it gets from the tannin (think "tea") from the pine trees. Altogether an Adirondack day. We thought about all the things that make this area unique: unlike most mountainous regions where snowfall is heavy, the roofs aren't particularly steep. We passed many signs advertising guide boats for sale. I'd almost forgotten about those unique vessels: they are like a very wide canoe, but are rowed instead of being paddled. I have been thinking about buying an Adirondack pack basket this time around, though I haven't a clue how I'll get it home! Our original destination for the day was a town called Hague, about 50 miles from Lake Luzerne. When we arrived and looked around, the one motel had no one at the office. It did not look promising, so we decided to roll on to Ticonderoga. But first: two pieces of wild berry pie at the Hague Market, the longest continuously operating store in the Adirondacks, as the owner proudly told us. We were back in small-town America, in a store that sold basic groceries, tools, had a deli, and of all things-a guitar shop. Actually, a rather full-service music store if you incuded the Steinway and banjos upstairs. Turns out the owner used to be a neighbor of Pete Seeger's, and they jammed together. We were wishing our friend John had been there; he may have found a guitar or two to add to his ciollection. The ten miles to Ticonderoga were rolling, but with no hills we couldn't handle. At the first intersection of America's Most Historical Town (it said so right on the sign!) we found not one but three motels, all staffed. A quick comparison of rates brought us to the Stone House Motor Lodge. They allowed us to register, even without a motor. After cleaning up (us and the bike), we struck out for a restaurant and hit the jackpot with Gino's. Bob had lasagna and I enjoyed mussels with marinara sauce, excellent. Cannoli finished us off and a short walk to our "motor lodge" later we are relaxing and looking forward to a good night's sleep.