Canal Route - Day 88: Lockport to Fairport, NY

As expected, the entire day today was spent following the Erie Canal, biking through small, sleepy communities built almost exactly at the level of the water. Apparently the lock system keeps the water levels very predictable.

It turns out that there's a lot of culture and lore around the canal, and it's lined with signs hailing its contribution to the growth of early communities along its route. Barges used to be pulled by donkeys walking along a towpath on either side of the canal, and those paths still exist in various states of repair, so that's what I followed. I woke up early and was rewarded with views of the sunrise setting morning steam on fire, which my phone barely managed to capture.

Canal traffic was rare, and what traffic I did see was all recreational. The fact that waterfront communities were built right at water level meant that any wake would cause problems, so boats had to putter along at 5 mph for most of the way. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about it, though, and most waved cheerfully when they saw me.

Everything today was pretty and serene, with no car traffic to worry about. Even riding through Rochester was easy, following mostly protected bike paths. The lack of stress was convenient, because my subconscious decided that I needed to become rather depressed for no reason. Of course, that doesn't mean reasons weren't generated for me, as depression tends to do. I thought about how my ride wasn't helping anyone but me, how it represented running away from problems rather than dealing with them, how it was a waste of privilege and resources, how people I liked were probably forgetting about me after I was gone for three months, how I'd be disappointed when it's over, how I had nothing to fall back on once I couldn't use "I'm riding a bike across the country!" as a reason to feel special anymore, and how I'd been failing to make the most of things by interacting with people when I could. Once it got dark enough out that I felt I could effectively hide off the edge of the trail, I found a hidden place to sleep in a little town just past Rochester.

The Falls - Day 87: Buffalo to Lockport, NY

I had trouble getting up at a reasonable hour today. Takahashi left well before I did, leaving me his number and a note saying I should look him up if I'm ever in Japan. I still have it, just in case!

I decided to get to Niagara Falls from the Canadian side of the border because I'd heard it was pretty and I needed to justify bringing my passport all this way. I verified that I still actually had the passport and headed in the general direction of Canada. I found a bridge, took a while finding the bizarre series of ramps and walkways that bikes were required to use to get onto said bridge, and then ran into a local cycling club that very helpfully let me fall in with them to speed my trip through customs. After being in a few pictures with them and answering the usual questions about my ride, I found a small diner and used American dollars to overpay for a basic meal.

The falls themselves were pretty amazing, but some deep part of my hipster soul was turned off by the massive crowds, especially after having enjoyed relative solitude for weeks. Approaching the falls from the south, the first I could see of it was a plume of vapor rising from the river. Usually, I think of a waterfall as a narrow stream of water falling off a cliff, but no cliff face was visible. The sheer volume of the river causes it to look more like a giant hole in a lake than an actual cliff face, which was a neat effect. The weather was nice, and heavy spray from the falls shot rainbows all over the place. Apparently, the water level doesn't change much there, either, because the overlook was built close enough to the water that I was able to reach over and actually touch the water where it begins its descent.

The spray from the falls was a little much to hang out directly in front of it, so I spent a while under a tree writing things on my laptop. Eventually I fought my way through tour bus traffic and immigrated back to the American side, talked to the border agent about my trip for long enough that it seemed rude to everyone behind me, and then spent another while under another tree on the American side. I spent most of my time next to a guy who was trying to recruit members for a meditation-based religion that I'd never heard of. He seemed calm and played pleasant music, so I gave him a dollar.

Once it started getting dark, I figured I should ask Google where the hell the Erie Canal was, because that was my plan for crossing pretty much the entire state. After some wrong turns I made it to Lockport early enough that I really felt I should find a bar and socialize. I was about to try one place before I saw a "private" sign on it. I hatched a plan to "accidentally" wander in and see if I could get celebrity treatment having just biked from Oregon, because that sounded like a good story... and then I didn't follow through, which is really disappointing to report. Instead, I found the canal, navigated my way through the first lock I found, and started looking for places to sleep.

Eventually I found a raising bridge that looked like it had been out of commission for months, stuck in the raised position. I realized that the raised portion of the bridge was higher than any surrounding building and I could stash my bike among the construction detritus below it. Having already passed up one story opportunity, I couldn't pass up a unique sleeping spot. I stashed my things, lobbed my sleeping bag on top of the bridge, and then climbed up the support structure. The road surface for the raised section was a steel deck, not pavement, so I could technically be seen through the mesh if anyone looked from directly below. I walked out to the center of the span, guessing any passing barge wouldn't care if they noticed me at all, and laid down to sleep. Late that night, a group of teenagers decided to try and climb the bridge, but failed to actually make it. I went back to sleep feeling safe and smug.

Most pictures were of the falls today. Unfortunately, my camera is terrible for anything at night, so I didn't get the bridge. You can look it up on my final route and streetview it if you really want.

Staging area - Day 86: Chautauqua to Buffalo, NY

As with most hills, the ride down was better than the ride up. The slope was steep enough that I felt more comfortable in the lane than on the shoulder, and I blazed past light Sunday morning traffic to stop in a nice farmer's market in Westfield. I got a free peach by bothering someone who was only selling them by the carton, and bought some delicious Amish snickerdoodles. I like the idea of natural, wholesome food, but in retrospect I'm not entirely comfortable supporting Amish business. As far as I'm aware they don't go out of their way to make trouble for others and have a respectable work ethic, but they're pretty oppressive internally when it comes to gender roles and demonizing sexuality. Anyway.

Takahashi and I both had problems today. For me, it was my knees again. They'd been getting better overall, but the stop-and-go of Cleaveland combined with last night's climbing set them back a bit. We didn't plan to ride together today, as Takahashi meant to go off-route to find a bike shop. However, he passed me frequently during knee breaks, after which I'd pass him again as he stopped to fiddle with his back wheel. Neither of us were making rapid progress, and we were both passed by an older couple doing a nonchalant 16-18 mph on matching fully loaded bikes. We only had something like 50 miles to put in today, though, so I don't think either of us were too worried.

50 miles was a very approximate figure, because neither of us had a plan about where we'd stay in Buffalo. I had contacted some WarmShowers hosts, but this being labor day weekend, all the outdoorsy sorts that liked to host cyclists were off camping. Takahashi just didn't make many plans, period. He mentioned sleeping in places like McDonald's and Wal-Marts when necessary. Finally someone said we could camp in their backyard, so I communicated this to Takahashi at one of our many encounters throughout the day and texted him the address.

The ride there involved some pretty views and took me through a Seneca reservation, apparently popular for something to do with their tobacco. They also sold grilled cheese sandwiches with deep-friend cheese sticks in the middle, which provided the majority of my calories for the day. After arriving in Buffalo, meeting a terrified and ineffective guard dog, and setting up camp in what we hoped was the right backyard, we took a trip to a local pub and I introduced Takahashi to my opinion of good beer. We stayed in the pub until the mosquitoes had likely gone to sleep, sharing stories as best we could with Google Translate as an aid. This included the story of Takahashi taking a two-day trip on a stand-up paddle board, watching hammerhead sharks swim around below him. Eventually, I paid both our tabs, we went back to actually meet our hosts who were returning from a pub crawl of their own, and then got to sleep.