As we leave New York, we reflect on the luxuriously wide, paved shoulders available to us on virtually every road we traversed, and the almost universally careful and considerate drivers who gave us plenty of room, even when we were far over on the shoulder. Yes, I am referring to New York drivers as "considerate". Is it just Western, Upstate New York? I don't know; all I know is that my impression of the state, already pretty good, was upped several notches as a result of our experiences here over the last month. We are talking about a return trip (maybe not on bikes next time) to the Finger Lakes and Niagara regions, just in order to devote the time there we'd like to.
The road changed abruptly and dramatically entering Pennsylvania (see the photo). The shoulders, while "paved", are rougher and more frequently cracked/potholed than those we rode on in New York. It slows us down some, but the scenery is still very nice. It makes for pleasant riding, with vinyards on the left and Lake Erie on the right, and a good stiff headwind keeping us cool.
On the way to Erie, we saw a sign we have seen before: "Road Closed". As usual, we rode right on by. We have learned that sometimes, those "rules" don't apply to us (to read that properly, you need to actually make the quote symbols with your fingers, and say the word "rules" as sarcastically as you can). So on we went - to a spot where the bridge was ACTUALLY OUT. Fortunately, the foreman had seen us heading that way as he drove by in the other direction, and radioed back to let them know we were coming. The workers made sure to let us know a safe way through the stream, and we talked with them for a little bit after we forded the water. Our tires were a little muddier for the effort, but it saved us from riding the three miles back to the detour and the almost 7 miles more the detour would have sent us to rejoin the route. That was nice.
The late start this morning left us in Erie at about 1:45 for lunch; we found the Marketplace Grill in downtown, recently smoke-free, and had a delicious and pleasant meal there. We went from there to what we THOUGHT was the library (mostly because of the large, carved stone letters above each door that said "PUBLIC LIBRARY"), but which turned out to be storage for the court building next door. We were directed to the location of the ACTUAL library on the bayfront, and went there for about an hour and a half, thinking we would be able to go another 18 miles or so to the campgrounds I had identified near Lake City.
A word about campgrounds is in order here: so far, we have not been able to actually RESERVE a site at a campground in advance of our arrival - instead, we have had to just show up and ask for a tent site for the night at our intended destination. The reasons for this are not hard to understand. First, none of the campgrounds will actually allow any reservation for a period of time less than two nights, which means we would have to pay for two nights even if we were just going to stay for one (and making them just as costly as a motel, in most cases). Second, very few people actually camp in a tent anymore, so much of a given campground is dedicated to large, pull-through sites designed for trailers, motor homes, and RV's, often with just a few, fringe locations designated for tents. And, since nobody tent-camps anymore, a reservation is almost never needed.
The operative word is "almost"; one of the exceptions is the July Fourth weekend. To make matters worse, the campgrounds (in this area, at least) require a THREE night minimum, when they accept reservations at all. We made our way to the Sara Coyne campground at the base of the Presque Isle peninsula to see what was available (since they would not take reservations, and are "first come, first served"). When we got there, at about 5:30, of course we were far from first, and we were not well served. They suggested we go look on the beach and see if there was a place to pitch our tent.
Now, I'm not going to make excuses here; I was not real optimistic about camping on the beach, squeezed in with about, oh, ten BAJILLION other tents, on sand that didn't strike me as pristine, among a bunch of screaming running children, drunken smoking adults, and wet dogs that smelled like, well, WET DOGS. Not without a lot of beer. Like I said, I'm not going to make excuses, even though I was perhaps a little hypoglycemic at the time, and will use any excuse available to avoid discomfort; but we decided to find lodging elsewhere. ANYwhere else.
We climbed back up past the water park, expecting to go on past the main intersection to another road where I knew there would be other options, when we spotted the Inn at Presque Isle. It looked like it had seen better days (like in the 50's), but it had clearly seen much worse days, too. A quick check of the rates (very reasonable) got us a nice room for the night. I felt better. I felt better, too, later, after a shower and dinner at Syd's.
We will go to Ashtabula tomorrow, stopping at the library there or in Conneaut on the way. Nancy will post pictures at one of those places, hopefully. More tomorrow!
