74.6 Miles - Top Speed 30.2 MPH - AVG 13.2 MPH
Total: 1,141 Miles
I didn’t set an alarm last night as I was trusting the elements to awake me from my slumber. Instead I was awoken by a voice, and I definitely went to bed alone last night.
“Hey there, what’s going on, get the hell up”
Who on earth is that, I thought, well I unzipped my zipper (on the tent) to the sight of some neatly polished boots. A bloody police officer. Well, this was awkward. I gazed up at him from below like a stoned Alsatian and tried to explain what I was doing. He stared back at me and began to laugh.
“Ha, well that’s just great what you’re doing, you take your time in leavin’, there ain’t no rush here”.
Well, that was nice of him wasn’t it. I got going fairly soon afterwards anyway and began to battle my way through some fairly strong headwinds. It was a difficult morning for riding, this combined without showering made the first hour a little unpleasant, but after I stopped for breakfast in the town of Dunkirk, I was back to my best (and that is quite something). It was head down along the coast when I stopped in the town of Barcelona for some Gatorade - which is getting me through this trip, by the way - when I bumped in to another cyclist, his name was Chris from Knoxville, Tennessee and I liked him immediately, the problem was that he was travelling in the other direction. I thought I would’ve met some other cyclists on my route, by now, but that hasn’t been the case as yet, I’m not sure if they could keep up with Betty, what with her being the powerful juggernaut that she is, but it would be nice to give it a try.
When I arrived in Erie, I was waving harmlessly at passers-by like the wheeling spaz I am, when one of them corralled me. I got talking to a local resident named Lenny, and popped over to his place for a beer whilst he gave me some intel on his home city. He said he’d lived all over the US, but this was still his favourite place in the world. I like that sense of local pride that seems so prevalent over here. I like it more when the information is delivered over a cold Warsteiner on a hot day.
I ended up at Sara’s Campground tonight, happy to pay the $25 fee due to the time and the promise of a shower. When I arrived and pitched up on the sand I was invited over to dine with another family. I made my way over after running a few errands and had another great time around the campfire with Mark, Ben, Linda, Caitlin, Ingrid, Werner…(who did I miss out?) and I was yet again made to feel welcome as is so often the case. Mark in particular had some stories to tell about his life as a street performer in Paris and he had a marvellous knack to use expletives in the most magical, inoffensive manner, which is something I’ve been trying to manage myself for years. Anyway, I hope to meet that charming motherfucker and his family again some time. Maybe, if I’m ever in Pittsburgh.
Total: 1,141 Miles
I didn’t set an alarm last night as I was trusting the elements to awake me from my slumber. Instead I was awoken by a voice, and I definitely went to bed alone last night.
“Hey there, what’s going on, get the hell up”
Who on earth is that, I thought, well I unzipped my zipper (on the tent) to the sight of some neatly polished boots. A bloody police officer. Well, this was awkward. I gazed up at him from below like a stoned Alsatian and tried to explain what I was doing. He stared back at me and began to laugh.
“Ha, well that’s just great what you’re doing, you take your time in leavin’, there ain’t no rush here”.
Well, that was nice of him wasn’t it. I got going fairly soon afterwards anyway and began to battle my way through some fairly strong headwinds. It was a difficult morning for riding, this combined without showering made the first hour a little unpleasant, but after I stopped for breakfast in the town of Dunkirk, I was back to my best (and that is quite something). It was head down along the coast when I stopped in the town of Barcelona for some Gatorade - which is getting me through this trip, by the way - when I bumped in to another cyclist, his name was Chris from Knoxville, Tennessee and I liked him immediately, the problem was that he was travelling in the other direction. I thought I would’ve met some other cyclists on my route, by now, but that hasn’t been the case as yet, I’m not sure if they could keep up with Betty, what with her being the powerful juggernaut that she is, but it would be nice to give it a try.
When I arrived in Erie, I was waving harmlessly at passers-by like the wheeling spaz I am, when one of them corralled me. I got talking to a local resident named Lenny, and popped over to his place for a beer whilst he gave me some intel on his home city. He said he’d lived all over the US, but this was still his favourite place in the world. I like that sense of local pride that seems so prevalent over here. I like it more when the information is delivered over a cold Warsteiner on a hot day.
I ended up at Sara’s Campground tonight, happy to pay the $25 fee due to the time and the promise of a shower. When I arrived and pitched up on the sand I was invited over to dine with another family. I made my way over after running a few errands and had another great time around the campfire with Mark, Ben, Linda, Caitlin, Ingrid, Werner…(who did I miss out?) and I was yet again made to feel welcome as is so often the case. Mark in particular had some stories to tell about his life as a street performer in Paris and he had a marvellous knack to use expletives in the most magical, inoffensive manner, which is something I’ve been trying to manage myself for years. Anyway, I hope to meet that charming motherfucker and his family again some time. Maybe, if I’m ever in Pittsburgh.
Lenny giving the black power salute.
They don't fack abaaaart...
Yes, got the bird, Ornithologists International, here I come.
I still have no idea what this place does or is. None.
Some streets have signs. Get over it!
RSS Feed