A little Canadian holiday

Posted on by Debs and Jo (brakesandcakes.org)

So after nearly two weeks riding in the USA it was time for a new country and a holiday north of the border. Cutting through Ontario made sense distance wise, and although we had already cycled around the area before it meant we could have a catch up with some of Debs’ family and a few days off the bike.

A cold day by Lake Ontario

Crossing the border meant swapping US dollars for Canadian dollars, restrooms for washrooms, miles for kilometres, a crazy presidential campaign for a stud premier, Dunkin Donuts for Tim Hortons, and other barely discernible differences. Oh and the accent apparently (eh) but I’m rubbish with those. After the Niagara Falls border crossing day (see here) we had our coldest day riding yet in North America. The planned bike route along the shore of Lake Ontario became a stay-as-far-away-from-the-lakeshore-as-possible route as the wind whipped up off the lake and smashed us around. We stopped at a boarded up ice cream cafe and reminisced about relaxing here in baking sunshine previously whilst we sat huddled in thick coats using the building as a shelter and eating cheese wraps with two pairs of damp gloves on. Not all days on the road are glamorous, and this was one of the least enjoyable yet.


But we made it to Milton, Ontario and the home of Wendy, Phil and Nathan which was to be our respite for a few days (that easily became six). Time passed quickly as we ate good food in good company, slept, tuned up the bikes, washed our clothes (twice, luxury), went for some walks, watched squirrels, had a day out in Toronto and witnessed Leicester City win the Premier League. Watching our small city back home swallowed up by such an insane achievement and the associated celebration brought a tear to my eye more than once. Listening to it repeatedly on the news over here brought home the scale of this – and they even pronounced Leicester correctly. It’s still tough to explain the achievement over here as there’s no real comparison but once we say that they were 5000-1 at the start of the season that seems to hit home. If in doubt, resort to the global language of betting odds.


Getting back on the bikes is always tough after a break with great company but they weren’t going to ride themselves so we set off west again. Unfortunately, and as will be the case for the most of this trip, the wind was blowing from the west making progress half as fast for twice the effort. Our first stop was with friends from our previous visit and Gail and Gerry pulled out all the stops to give us another great evening (that just happened to be my birthday) and threw in a tour of Stratford, the home of Shakespeare in Canada and the mighty Justin Bieber. As the sun set over the river Avon I thought again how lucky we are to meet kind and welcoming people over and over again on this and previous trips. 

Sunset over the river Avon, Stratford

This stretch of Southern Ontario is open, mostly flat farmland which made for pleasant riding along country back roads, particularly as the wind gave me a late birthday present and switched direction for a day practically blowing us to the border. The two final days in Canada were uneventful but followed the typical bicycle touring rhythm that becomes the norm for body and mind after a short while – get up, eat, ride, eat, ride, eat, ride, eat, ride, find a place to sleep, eat, sleep. It’s funny how in this respect every day follows the same pattern, yet the details make every day completely different to the last. One day we ate lunch by a fishing lake; the next it was on a small patch of grass outside a bank by an intersection listening to Fleetwood Mac on the iPod. Not the ideal picnic spot but it worked for us. 

Gas station snack stop
Intersection picnic

After a ride down the St Clair river that forms the border between Ontario and Michigan we were just a short ferry trip from being back in the USA. Goodbye for now Canada – see you again in British Columbia! (A mere 3200 or so miles away…)


Big thanks to Wendy, Phil and Nathan; Gail and Gerry; and Tom and Val.

Not going out

Posted on by Debs and Jo (brakesandcakes.org)

It’s Saturday night, April 30th and we are not going out. Our hosts for the evening have departed for drinks and it is with relief and tiredness bordering on exhaustion that we sit down to eat several hundred grams of pasta and tuna. Our day started almost 100km, a country and 14 hours ago…
Waking up in the tent the air was colder than we thought. Despite minimal camping recently we packed up very efficiently and rolled the bikes along the canal to Main Street, pleased to see the diner we spotted yesterday was open. It was 7.45am. We spread the tent out over the bikes to dry in the sun and ordered breakfast. There was a dizzying array of options, but we order a special #1 from the blackboard for me, Mac n cheese pancake for Jo. The diner was everything you would imagine/hope for in a small town diner. The waitress was friendly and knew all the other customers by name. When an old guy parked his truck up and came in she actually said “hey there Snuffy, I’ll get your coffee.”

When my breakfast arrived, it was 2 full plates of food. The first had 2 blueberry pancakes the size of my face on. The other had eggs (scrambled), bacon and home fries (without onions). I did share. Jo first had to negotiate an appropriate sauce for her Mac n cheese pancake. She went for ketchup, despite the server’s assurances that most people prefer syrup. It was quite the carb hit, but she soldiered on through a blueberry one with maple syrup. 

A few cups of coffee, use of a bathroom, refilled water bottles and a dry tent later, we hit the canal trail at about 8:30am. There were a few people out walking dogs and jogging, but saw no other cyclists. The path got busier as we approached the impressive flight of locks that climb the Niagara escarpment. It was short but steep, and signalled the end of our canal following. The wind followed us as we continued west and we picked up speed towards Niagara Falls. After a sun cream stop we noticed a few cyclists on road bikes around. Specifically, they were passing us. A rider with less ‘full kit’ slowed to explain that there was a 50 mile charity ride going on. He said that following their signs would bring us right to downtown Niagara Falls.

This seemed like an easy navigation option. It also meant that at the event’s next refuelling stop we were waved into a car park by many enthusiastic volunteers. They weren’t at all disappointed to discover that we were not on their ride and were very excited by the idea of our trip. There were several conversations going on at the same time, about cycling, food supplies, my sunscreen (“Girl, you so dehydrated your lips are white!” – “It’s sunblock.”), our British flags (“You girls from Australia right?” – “No England” – “Ah I knew you some accent”), the charity, the fact that there were two Deborahs, it all got a bit confusing and Jo started taking her jumper off. Not from panic or confusion but because somehow in the midst of being made a peanut butter and jam sandwich and explaining that we had cycled from Boston, she had been stung by something.


Fully packed up with bags of orange quarters, bagels and sports drinks we left the cheery volunteers and immediately lost the bike ride signs. Needing a stop to investigate the sting situation, (suspect wasp, moderate swelling) we also re-routed ourselves on a straighter road to make back some time. Somewhere along this stretch we realised w had missed our 9000th trip kilometre and opted for photos of the landmark 9019th instead.

The outskirts of Niagara Falls, NY were not so pretty. Long stretches of shops, gas stations, intersections, fast food places. At least there were plenty of options for a bathroom stop. (Gas station, alcohol sales only between 8:30am-2am). At a red light an SUV blared rap music and a car full of tattooed young people pulled up next to us. The passenger leaned out the window and in an apologetic tone said “Excuse me, Ma’am, I just wanted to let y’all know that not all Americans are ignorant like that. Some of us like real music. I hope you enjoy your visit.” The light went green and our unlikely trio (gangstas, hipsters, cyclists) went our separate ways. There were lots of empty lots and for sale buildings but as we got closer to downtown the road became less busy and there were many more houses and nice residential areas. 

The US side of the falls is a State Park, and as international tourist attractions go it is fairly moderately done. There is a cinema experience, a walk behind the falls, a walk somewhere else, a boat trip and plenty of ice cream available, but you can also just walk (or cycle) around the various look out points and be amazed at the volume of water pouring over the edge which is exactly what we did. At times the people watching was as engaging as the falls.


Riding across the Rainbow Bridge cost us the princely sum of 50 cents each. Last time we crossed this way on bikes there was a very long queue to get into Canada. Today it seemed like the universe was smiling, the sun was still out and we rode right up to the border control board. The world may have been full of the joys of spring but our border guard was not. We were not expecting this from Canadian staff. It is very hard not to sound facetious/know-all when standing astride a heavily loaded bike and answering the question “what is the reason for your visit?” with “Cycling?!”

The view is best on the Canadian side so we had a choice of primo picnic stops to eat our packed lunch from the charity bike ride folk. The falls are very impressive if you are ever in the area, the horseshoe one is over 400m long. Travelling North, the gorge downstream is also pretty, with plenty of scenic viewpoints along the bike path. We met some other cycle tourists at a few of the stops, three boys from Illinois who we had heard about from another guy the day before. Even in a country as big as this the road can be small. More surprising was that we had caught them up. It has never happened that when we know of someone going the same way in front of us we actually meet them. We are too busy riding slowly, snacking and stopping for Jo to take photos. The boys must do the same.

The last 20km was relatively flat and fast past vineyards and well kept houses. Jo’s sting swelling was still growing in size. We crossed the Welland Canal and passed an impressive war cemetery with many tiny Canadian flags blowing in the wind. Our lovely hosts are keen cyclists and direct us to bike storage and food. They have been in a running race today and are celebrating with dinner out. We wash, eat and sit. We are too tired to go out. As we are cycling on a day like this we often have a conversation about something that has happened, and because of all that goes on in between it seems like it couldn’t still be the same day. Did I really have a pancake the size of my face THIS morning? Did we really ride our bikes to Niagara Falls? What lucky little people we are.


Thanks to: the charity riders and volunteers, Dan & Emily in St Catharines – hope the red bull race went well!

Erie go…. Cycling along the Erie Canal trail

Posted on by Debs and Jo (brakesandcakes.org)

So it turns out that New York State is pretty big – after whizzing through our first three states at a rate of one per day, we crossed the border into NY and saw that it was a long old way to the Canadian border. Luckily for cyclists wanting an easily navigable, traffic free route through the state, there is a 360 mile bike route along the old Erie Canal that takes you from Albany to Buffalo. Always interested in an easily navigable, traffic-free route we rode west from our camp spot in Bruce and Sandy’s garden to join the trail in Amsterdam and intended to pretty much follow it for the next 300 miles.

Nice, traffic-free, tree-lined bike trail

The Erie Canal was quite an engineering feat for the early 1800s, allowing boats to travel from New York City to the Great Lakes. Until the railways made boat travel look slow and cumbersome this was how goods and people travelled across the state. Now the canal system is used for a multi-use trail and although in some places the gravel makes riding frustrating – and there are short sections that are still unfinished – it’s a pleasant way to ride across the state. However the view doesn’t change much, and by the end of the first day we were starting to understand why people had told us they liked it but wouldn’t ride it again…

Still a nice, traffic-free, tree-lined bike route
And more of the traffic-free, tree-lined bike route….

There is loads of historical information, though there’s a distinct ‘scraping the barrel’ feeling as you get towards the end and read the 8th information board about the intricate workings of lift bridges. Some of it is really good though, particularly the descriptions and photos of life ‘working the boats’. The canal would be drained over winter and the bottom would freeze and be used for ice skating; kids would be entertained by swings on boats but have rope tied round their waist and attached to the hull so they didn’t fall off; there was once a 100-boat pile up after the one at the front got stuck. As with the whole of our bicycle trip so far we were out of season along the canal so it was really quiet, we would see hardly anyone all day on the trail (but in typical North American style, those we did see would stop and speak to us and exclaim that we were awesome/brave/crazy for trying to cycle across the country and wish us luck). The riding was easy, it was flat as a pancake, but as is often the way with flat riding, it got a bit repetitive boring at times.

One of many information board snack stops

So after three days on the canal path, including spending a night in Rome, we decided to detour off and take a parallel route slightly south for a couple of days across the Finger Lakes region. This is unsurprisingly a particularly affluent area of the state – on reaching the first lake it was hard to believe only 15 miles previously we were riding through a particularly sketchy area of town where for the first time in the USA we were a little fearful of stopping at traffic lights. The lakes made for great lunch stops, the roads were quiet and the hills rolling enough to be interesting without tiring us out. We skirted the top of four different lakes that shone blue under sunny skies. This was the life.

The Finger Lakes

Off the trail we were on roads again with cars (less fun) but more places to stop at (as we were to discover, much more fun). On seeing a sign that said ‘Chocolate Pizza’ and an arrow to the left, but no more information, we obviously pulled in to see what this was all about. Fearing some warm chocolate/cheese combo yet still wishing to see it with our own eyes we were pleased to find lots of chocolate, no cheese, and super friendly owners who fed us free samples and were excited about our trip. We made it onto their blog and their enthusiasm about our ride spurred us on to Geneva (spot the pattern?) for a night by the lake. 

Yep, thats chocolate pizza

Late that afternoon we stopped in Seneca Falls, famous as the home of women’s rights in the USA. (We were fast learning, with much sadness, that having ‘Falls’ in a place name did not indicate waterfalls were to be found.) Seneca Falls is home to the Women’s Rights National Historic Park (yet it wasn’t a park, but a museum, it’s like they are trying to confuse us now) where I walked in to be greeted enthusiastically by a member of the parks staff with “right you got 19 minutes, whadda ya wanna see? I’d recommend going upstairs first to read the history and then to the chapel where the first convention was held, you cycling, awesome, we got ice water for your bottles and restrooms too” without pausing for breath (I guess she didn’t want to waste more than half a one of my precious 19 minutes). I did exactly as instructed and left with slightly more knowledge about the foundation of the women’s rights movement, full water bottles and an empty bladder. 19 minutes well spent. Debs sat outside on a Women’s Rights Park branded bench for 19 minutes. I think I won that day.


From Geneva it was back to the canal trail that would take us almost all the way to the Canadian border over the next three days. The canal is often higher than the land around it which is a bit weird, usually water is on the lowest ground. As if to illustrate how weird this is, at one point a road goes underneath it. Bike traffic on the trail picked up and we saw our first cycle tourist of the trip heading East and then to Europe, rode with a group of cyclists out on their first ride of the year for a morning and then saw our second cycle tourist, on a trike. Oh and we also had to share the trail with lots of geese who hissed wildly as we passed. But their babies were cute so we let them off. 

Happy to share the trail

Not so happy to share the trail

Our last night on the canal was spent camping by the water. It’s still pretty cold at night so this required lots of pasta followed by lots of clothes but we survived and rewarded ourselves with our first American diner breakfast experience the next morning. But this is for another post….


Meeting a long lost big brother

Thanks to Betsy, Pete and Chris for the impromptu hosting; Larry and Patty; Katherine and Greg for introducing big brother Surly; Ryan and the rest of the team at Chocolate Pizza; Jeff; and Karin and Ken.

Vermont smells of maple syrup

Posted on by Debs and Jo (brakesandcakes.org)

Going West is the wrong way and the right way to cross North America. It’s the right way for us as it was the shortest flight from the UK and also feels more explorer-y to travel the same way as the pioneers and settlers, moving west, finding the Rockies, finding the Pacific. It’s the wrong way because of the prevailing wind, which could make the Midwest in particular very tough indeed. But winds can change, the other things can’t, so we are sticking to the plan.

Lots of churches, almost as many pointy monuments

There are so many wonderful things about visiting the USA. Almost all of them can be summarised to the fact that it does so well at being American. New England could not have been more New England-y. There were towns full of immaculate wooden buildings, white clapboard churches, pristine lawns. Tree covered hills stretched as far as we could see. You can see why people say to visit New England in the fall a the colours must be incredible. For now there were mostly bare trees. The sun shone and we picnicked outside Louisa May Alcott’s house. We even saw a beaver, his lodge and dam.

Plenty of rest stops

We had planned in some shorter riding days to get used to having all the kit on the bikes again. This gave us plenty of time for important pastimes like snack stops, surveying the random stuff in the road shoulder (early winner, children’s shoe/NH overtaken by broken homemade banjo/NY), number plate spotting and counting political signs. In Massachusetts Bernie had the most signs. In New Hampshire it was Donald, though the election signs were clearly outnumbered by ‘no pipeline’ boards. That evening there was much celebration at the Fitzwilliam Arms open mic night because it had been confirmed that the new pipeline was not to be. Locals were relieved that a huge volume of woodland would now be left undisturbed.

Our first state line. NH has an alarming slogan – live free or die

Short cycling distances also meant we had time for a hike up Gap Mountain before our ride to Brattleboro, VT. The views onwards to Vermont and back to Monadnock were fantastic, but we could see that crossing the green mountains the next day was going to be tough. Even though there is nothing like the height of the Rockies several cyclists had warned us that they had found crossing the Appalachians extremely challenging.

view of Monadnock on Gap mountain descent

After stocking up on snacks at the excellent Brattleboro food co-op we headed uphill in the rain. As it got heavier we sheltered a couple of times but as it showed no signs of stopping soon decided we would have to get wet to get anywhere.It was the slowest of slow progress. The first 17 miles were all uphill. There at the top of Hogback we had our gourmet food co-op picnic,a fantastic view of three states and worried slightly that it was 2pm and we had only. done about a third of the distance for the day. Other tourists did not reassure us, with much talk of the steepness of the next climb etc. They weren’t wrong, it was at times brutally steep. Often these slower sections coincided with a narrowing of the shoulder bringing us very close to (fortunately considerately driven) trucks.

Double whammy. It stopped raining and there’s a giant chair. Hogback Pass.

Handily we found some stray rhubarb and custard sweets in my handlebar bag and powered up the second pass. Apparently in the civil war men dragged cannons up and over that route, probably without dessert-based sweets to help them.
The downhill to Bennington was amazing. The type you don’t really get in Europe where there are far more twists and steep gradients. This was relatively shallow, straight-ish with a wide shoulder and mostly good surface. Plenty of time to enjoy the view and avoid any road hazards (roadkill, clothing items, half a pizza). An often cited benefits of cycling is that you are really in touch with your surroundings, not separated from them as in a car. This is definitely a for better, for worse situation – that green mountains day had it all. Pouring rain, too-close traffic on a narrow road, the air rushing past and great views opening up on a fast descent, the heat and smell of truck brakes as they roll down the hill.
The next day we entered New York State and crossed the Hudson. Cue head filled with songs mentioning the famous river that runs all the way to New York City. Have you got Billy Joel? It was a beautiful day, we rode mainly through farmland aiming for a different waterway, the Erie Canal, which we could follow almost to the Canadian border.

They love these things round these parts. Rubbish for pooh sticks though.

We didn’t make the canal that day, but our camping experience in Bruce and Sandy’s backyard was further demonstration of how kind, welcoming and enthusiastic everyone we had met so far had been. That is the most wonderful thing about being a visitor here, over all of the other things, and it has been my experience every time I have travelled in this giant country. I said earlier that America was good at being American. The overwhelming majority* of people seem to be good Americans too. Oh, and did I mention that Vermont actually smelled of maple syrup?

Thanks to: Julie & John, Hiel & Susan, Dot, Ellen, Bruce & Judy (drinkers of the best beer in the world), Bruce, Sandy and Champ.

*Excluding the guy who shouted F*** Queen Elizabeth at us on her Birthday. She’s a 90 year old Great Grandma, let’s be respectful.

Plains & Rains in Spain

Posted on by Debs and Jo (brakesandcakes.org)

We are in North America right now, but there’s still a little catching up to do from the European tour. In the last post we were heading East in central Portugal…

Back in Spain there were immediate cycling improvements, better surface, shoulder to ride in, kinder traffic. We were on roads that had previously been the main road, but were now secondary to the expensive newer auto pistes. The two ran almost completely parallel and there was hardly any traffic on either. On the high plains we could see for miles, mainly flat but occasionally snowy mountain tops were clear in the distance. 

Sunset riding on an empty highway
 
The sun took ages to set, we had 360 degree orange, and arrived at the campsite in Ciudad Rodrigo in the dark. Unsurprisingly there were no other tents. The walled city looked magical lit up at night, a great back drop to our quickly-eat-before-it-gets-cold dinner. The campsite had a bar which steadily emptied as we were cooking. We went in for hot chocolate and saw the debris of a rip-roaring Saturday night. Napkins and cocktail sticks littered the floor. Some serious tapas had been eaten that evening.

After a painfully frosty tent pack up we rode up to the city and around some of the walls. The Parador (state-run hotels in Spain) was very impressive and had lots of suits of armour in. Back on the road to Salamanca the no traffic plainness continued. We entertained ourselves with classic road games, such as:

Which direction will the next car pass us in?

How many minutes/kms until the next field of cows?

How many cars will pass us before the village of some saints head?

When the excitement got too much we returned to naming songs by a group/artist until you can’t think of any more. 

  

Visiting the cathedral included an outdoor walk up by the towers
  
 Fortunately when we finally saw Salamanca it looked awesome. Even from a distance it was clear there were plenty of impressive buildings. Most of the city centre was made of similar stone, sandy coloured and very well maintained. The Plaza Mejor was super-fancy – probably the most pleasing of all the squares we had seen. The city looked great by night and day, helped by blue skies and sunshine. Our amazing hosts Javier and Pedro showed us some great tapas places, and the mystery of the debris on the floor of the tame campsite bar was solved, this is what you do with your Pinchos litter. We also caught up with our Christmas presents via Catherine from New Zealand whose month studying in Salamanca coincided with our visit. 

The best square of the trip?

Salamanca seemed a very liveable Spanish city. The downside is that it is still a long way from anywhere. This was particularly important for us as weather reports showed that cold was about to get colder and more unpleasant in every way. Snow storms were forecast for Northern Spain, with much snow above 300m in the region that separated us from the coast and our ferry home. As we were still over 800m with some passes to ride over before dropping down, it was time to get a shift on.

Inquisitive and adorable

For the first time in Spain the wind agreed and we rode the easiest fifty miles of the trip. We arrived in Medina del Campo in time to look at the castle and enjoy relaxing at Paco’s with two very cute cats. The weather was not to be our friend for long, the rain heavy and the wind strong. It was clear that to get to Bilbao safely we needed some help. Cutting out some of the distance with a fifty minute train journey gave us a 50km ride to the end of Bilbao’s commuter rail line. Unfortunately the 50km included a 500m+ climb and the most technical descent of the trip in rain and fog. Not far from Bilbao, the descent we did has been a climb in the Vuelta.

 

A dash up a pass in the rain
 
 
Spot the hi-vis jacket
  

Never has a warm house been more welcome than that Friday night. The rain was relentless and continued until all weekend. Being stubborn we went for a soggy walk but the deluge made it difficult to enjoy the sights. Cycling to the ferry we experienced a very unique bridge. It had been included directions given to us by a local cyclist, who described it as ‘not usual’. Definitely not, but I won’t spoil the surprise if you haven’t been. The rain began again as we rode through the endless port area and we were very relieved when the ferry staff waved us straight onto the boat and out of the rain on Sunday afternoon.

  

I’m not sure I can fully explain the relief and relaxation of a long boat or train journey after a lot of moving around. You know exactly where you will sleep. You have packed yourself an excellent and extensive array of picnic food. You have books to read, and if you are lucky (we were) the ferry has board games so you can spend an entire day playing scrabble. If you are really lucky you can speak to people in your own language who think your cycling trip is really interesting (thanks Brits on tour). If your luck is at maximum you have some family who live close to the port at the end of your journey for food, sleep and great conversation (amazing stay in Hampshire). Home time!

Thanks for this ride to: Javi & Pedro, Paco, Raul, Rafa & family, Shelagh, Joss, Emma & Alex.