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Cornwall, Vermont
July 1, 2008
“Buckets of rain, Buckets of tears, Got all them buckets comin’ out of my ears.” - Bob Dylan
Thunderstorms chased me through Canada and into New York. Generosity continued in Ontario where a little pastry chef, owner of her bakery contributed to the money I’ve been raising. I hoped to spend time at Niagara Falls but the storm was so miserable, I pushed on. About six miles out, I met a father and son team. As we swapped our stories, Walt (the dad) told me that they had biked around three of the Great Lakes, and their ambition was to bike around all the Great Lakes before the son’s graduation from high school.
And the New York firefighters stepped in. First in Mexico (yes there’s a Mexico in New York) and again in Williamstown, the open door of the fire station gave me shelter and a break. Each time, a generous donation came away with me. On the other the hand, Yale Public Library charges $2.00 for Internet access; can you believe it?
In Oswego, the wind stopped harassing me because the rain was coming down so hard the wind couldn’t get through! I passed 4,000 miles just 15 miles west of North Hudson. On the ferry from Ticonderoga to Vermont, I received yet another donation for glaucoma research. Then on to face some of the steepest hills I’ve ever been on in the Adirondacks. The grade is about 12%—rough. I remember that the Cascades were much worse, and I thought at the time “Are these roads even open during the winter?”
I saw a black bear this morning. Of course, by the time I took out my camera, the bear was gone. Did you know that the Amish use molasses in their cooking? Can’t really taste it though.
Another act of kindness: remember the father and son team? Walt rode 15 miles with me after we had supper to make sure I found my way okay. That’s a thirty mile round trip out of his route. Amazing.