Jesse & Barb Dayton (& Loni)

Jesse & Barb Dayton (& Loni)
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

Jesse & Barb found us in Port Henry, and offered to put us up and feed us if

we rode another 15 miles to their home in Westport. We did, and were

rewarded with great trail stories, wonderful food, and a comfy bed!

The Falls at Ticonderoga

The Falls at Ticonderoga
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

We stopped for lunch here in Fort Ticonderoga, and were drawn to the falls

in the park here. These falls are only half as big as Mother Nature

originally made them--it was standard practice to "share" the water by

splitting the falls between different businesses that needed the water.

The Falls at Ticonderoga

The Falls at Ticonderoga
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

We stopped for lunch here in Fort Ticonderoga, and were drawn to the falls

in the park here. These falls are only half as big as Mother Nature

originally made them--it was standard practice to "share" the water by

splitting the falls between different businesses that needed the water.

The Falls at Ticonderoga

The Falls at Ticonderoga
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

We stopped for lunch here in Fort Ticonderoga, and were drawn to the falls

in the park here. These falls are only half as big as Mother Nature

originally made them--it was standard practice to "share" the water by

splitting the falls between different businesses that needed the water.

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

Stunning geography here in Adirondack Park. We were only in the foothils,

but you can see how gorgeous the landscape is.

Doubleday Field

Doubleday Field
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

Historic Doubleday Field is the home of baseball. Unfortunately, the woman

who offered to take our picture didn't get the Doubleday nameplate in our

photo . . .

The drive to Whitehall

The drive to Whitehall
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

I had a comfy front seat, while Matthew had to share the back seat with both

bikes. He passed the time by counting the body parts that fell asleep

during the ride.

Doubleday Field

Doubleday Field
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

Historic Doubleday Field is the home of baseball. Unfortunately, the woman

who offered to take our picture didn't get the Doubleday nameplate in our

photo . . .

Freeloader

Freeloader
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

A bug like this flew into Matthew's helmet and tried to catch a ride. He

thought it was an anomoly, but we found another one on our rental car. I've

named him "Helmut"

More unexpected delights

June 8; Whitehall, NY to Westport, NY. After yesterdays rain, we watched the forecast carefully, making the decision to go to Port Henry when it seemed like we would spend the majority of the day in a break between rain bands (which we did, so there's no suspense). I thought the shorter distance and the cooler temperatures would make for a nicer experience, even though I knew we would be entering the easternmost portion of the Adirondacks (and some climbs).

We did have to stop on a hill, a long climb, but we didn't have to walk; and, like I said, no real rain to speak of, but it was overcast all day and the temperatures were very cool. And so we kept pedaling, not even stopping for lunch, because there wasn't really anywhere to go but on up the road.

The scenery along this route is gorgeous; even with the overcast skies, we could see the lush green of the New York Mountains. Along the way we found numerous little waterfalls (and some larger ones) and lots of lovely little streams. And when we finally reached a point where we could see the southern tip of Lake Champlain, and saw the bridge we figured we would cross the next day, it looked fabulous (perhaps because we thought our day was nearly done).

We reached Port Henry fairly early, around 3:30, and stopped at a sign that depicted both Port Henry and the nearby town of Moriah, listing several businesses by name with their number and location on the map. The sign also listed the names of people who claimed to have sighted Champ, the sea monster alleged to live in Lake Champlain, and the dates of the sightings (the last of which was in 1990 - you may draw your own conclusions). For this reason, the signs are together known as the "Champ Sign".

We were standing there at the Champ Sign trying to find somewhere to stay for the night (having ruled out camping, even at Bulwagga Bay, because it was clearly going to rain overnight), when a car pulled up. Inside were Barb and Jesse Dayton, a couple in their 60's who had themselves ridden across the country last year; we talked with them for a few minutes before they invited us to come stay the night at their place in Westport, another 15 miles or so. Of course, even though it meant another hour and a half to two hours, we accepted because we wanted to hear their stories and experiences (and they promised dinner . . . YUM!)

I don't mind admitting that, knowing Jesse had a truck, I was secretly hoping the whole way from Port Henry to Westport that he would magically appear and give us a ride the rest of the way (Nancy told me later that she was thinking the same thing). It was not because we didn't want to ride; it was because we were so sure we were done at Port Henry but then went on. That's a psychological disadvantage; if you expect to go 43 miles and end up going 58, then those last 15 miles are just harder than ordinary.

Let me state right now, at this juncture, that those miles were well worth it; the evening we spent with Barb and Jesse was an unexpected delight. Jesse did meet us just as we entered Westport; we had both noticed the red pickup truck go by because he had their dog Buddy with him. The ride from where he picked us up was basically uphill about 90% of the way, and we were glad for the short respite. When we got to their house, Jesse asked us as we entered (somewhat hesitantly) "you're not strict vegetarians, are you?" -- Barb had started a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. Laughing, we assured him we were not.

We met their two cats, as well; Cleocatra and Marc Anthony. Marc Anthony was the larger and fluffier of the two, looking much like the "Badcat" on the Kliban cat cartoons (for those that remember the Kliban cats). Barb and Jesse were wonderful hosts, and we had a great dinner with them, including dessert of brownies and ice cream. Barb had told Jesse not to bore us with their stories, to let us tell ours, but of course we are always interested in the experiences others have had; we told Jesse we wanted to hear their stories, and we did. We were up until after midnight talking, and looking at their pictures from previous trips. We were never bored, not for an instant.

They not only rode bikes across the country (on the Transamerica Trail, which we will use through part of Missouri, Kansas, Colorado and Wyoming), they also made news when they rode to Barb's 50th class reunion in Minnesota by way of some remote parts of Canada. They told us about how they had taken a "bush train" to a sawmill town, and got to know Lloyd, the steward on the train. When they realized just a few moments too late that Barb had left her wallet on the train (and the train would return this way the next day sometime), they had to spend the night in this little town in the middle of nowhere. They were able to call the rail company, who was able to contact the train, and when the train came through the next day it slowed down just enough for Lloyd to hand the wallet to Jesse at the siding.

Barb, by the way, is a triathlete, and would have been out swimming (in training) tonight if we had not appeared. She has competed in Lake Placid, Hawaii, and other locations, and even holds the record for her age group at Lake Placid, breaking the old record by more than two hours. Her plan was to go for a 60-mile bike ride first thing in the morning. She's in pretty good shape :-).

They put us in a guest room that was incredibly comfortable, and we slept like big logs; Nancy got up and left the door open in the morning, just a little, but it was enough for Marc Anthony to get in and jump up on the bed, startling Nancy. I know how to deal with cats like that, though; Nancy got a picture or two, and we'll post that soon.

Our plan for tomorrow is now to ride to the Essex-Charlotte ferry and ride that across to Vermont. We think the rain will hold off until late tomorrow, by which time we should be at Kurt and Holly's place in Burlington. Pictures to come . . .

Nor'easter in New York

Albany to Whitehall, NY. Wednesday, June 7. A while back, Mary Beth said we had several guardian angels on loan. Today, we met a few of them.

Let me preface all this by saying that when we went to sleep last night, the forecast was for overcast skies, temps in the mid-60's, and light wind. By the time we woke up, a nor'easter had formed and the forcast had changed to rain pretty much all day. This, and we had planned to ride a bit further than usual, to Whitehall, a distance of about 75 miles, because we had good information that the route to that point was relatively flat. Even though we had said we would not set out in the rain, we decided to go anyway because we had the gear and the rain was not coming down that hard, and we thought we might be able to stay out of the heavy stuff.

I'll cut to the chase; we got about 23 miles, to Mechanicville, before we stopped for a break and a late breakfast at a place called Bubbles. Almost immediately, Eileen Sullivan introduced herself; she was there having lunch with her mom (Rita) and her friend Shirley. Eileen grew up near here and after several years in Boston, moved back here, and is proud of the area - she offered to drive us up to the Saratoga Battleground historic site, and also to Saratoga, to show us around.

We were already having second thoughts about our plan for the day, and the offer to be shown around by a local sort of swayed us towards the idea of stopping a bit short of Whitehall, near Fort Edward, just another 22 miles, so we accepted Eileen's offer.

Eileen first drove us up to the Saratoga battleground site, apologizing for the lousy weather along the way - I would guess that the view on a clear day is spectacular - and telling us about the deer that live in the park and some of the history of the battlefield. At the visitor center, we watched a short film about the site. The events that took place in this area were some of the most important in swinging the advantage to the colonies in the Revolutionary War; had the British succeeded in separating New England from the rest of the colonies, the future of the rebellion would have been critically damaged.

Eileen then drove us up to the city of Saratoga, where horse racing is a prominent activity, and where Skidmore College is located. We drove past the racetrack, through the campus of the college, past numerous beautiful houses, and by the mineral springs. All the while, she regaled us with stories and tidbits about the region.

The rain still had not let up, and when we got back to Bubbles (where we had left our bikes), Eileen suggested that we could go get her mother's car, a large Lincoln Towncar, and put the bikes and trailers in that, so she could DRIVE US TO WHITEHALL.

You read that right; she offered to drive us the remaining 50 miles or so to Whitehall so we could spend the night there, as we had planned last night. Under the circumstances, we were inclined to at least see if our stuff would fit in the car.

We drove over to Eileen's brother's house, where the towncar was parked. There, we met Michael and Darlene, who were gracious and entertaining hosts, inviting us in to talk. Perhaps we looked less a threat than the four Algerian students that Eileen told us she had brought by a few years before - that's a whole 'nother story, a pretty funny one, too.

Darlene and Mike were very fun to talk with; Mike started out as a nuclear physicist, before going to law school, and then becoming a computer scientist, so he knew why I had gone to Idaho while in the Navy when it came up. Darlene had pictures of their two children; somehow we got around to a story they had heard, or seen a report on, about a family with 16 kids that took a road trip to the Grand Canyon. We all marveled at that, perhaps most at the patience the parents must have had to have 16 kids in tow. We exchanged mailing information, and we gave them the URL of our blog (so they would know who Eileen had brought home THIS time) before we went out to look at the car. In the rain.

We took a look at the towncar, and it looked like there would be enough room, as long as someone (me) sat in the back with the bikes. So, off we went back to Bubbles, and wedged all our stuff into the car. The trunk we had to secure with the bungee cord ordinarily strapped across the top of my trailer - both trailers managed to fit in the trunk - and then I sat in the back with the bikes. We needed to remove one wheel from Nancy's bike and both from mine to make them fit, and then I assumed the most comfortable position I could under the circumstances. The rain continued unabated the entire time.

Now, wedged into the back seat with two bikes in partial states of disassembly, I got pretty dirty. The bikes had traversed more than 20 miles in the rain, and both were just covered with road grit and dirt. I tried to imagine how nice a shower would feel, and how I would be able to convince Nancy that my jacket would have to be washed (despite the threat she says is posed to the waterproofing by washing). Meanwhile, Nancy and Eileen chatted cheerfully all the way to Whitehall.

So, now we know an angel by name: Eileen Sullivan of Mechanicville, NY. Without her extraordinary help, we would have had to ride another 25 miles in moderate rain and increasing winds, and only to Fort Edward (South Glens Falls, really), with a potential arrival time in the neighborhood of 8PM. Maybe. Eileen made our plan of getting to Burlington by Friday night remain plausible, AND showed us around some of the things we would have missed otherwise. We would like to think that we would have made it to Fort Edward, but the assistance on a dreary day was irresistible. Besides, this trip is not as much about riding EVERY INCH OF THE ROUTE as it is about the experience of meeting people and seeing the country the way you can't see it from the freeway. Today we met those goals, and met a wonderful group of people. We just have to smile at how lucky we have been, at how many good people there really are.

Despite the rain, we intend to continue tomorrow; our decision to bypass New England now seems like a good one, but we have little choice but to pedal on through the rain tomorrow if we have any hope of reaching Burlington by this weekend. Kurt, Holly, we might be wet and dirty when we show up Friday night. See you soon!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame!

Monday, June 5. Albany, NY. We decide to take an extra 2 days in Albany so that a local bike shop can work on my shiftes. I've been noticing a fair amount of play in the shift lever for some time, but over the last couple of weeks I've been experiencing what I've been calling "auto-shifting". The chain jumps from one ring of the back cassette to another ring even though I'm not actually shifting gears. The shop near our hotel seems to have some good wrenches, so I leave it with them to replace the shifters.

This leaves us with a perfect excuse to visit Cooperstown, NY, where the Baseball Hall of Fame is located. I grew up listening to baseball on the radio. Warm summer nights in Southern California were filled with the noise of a major league game. I wasn't particularly passionate about any of the teams, and I still would rather listen to a game on the radio than watch it on tv. If I'm going to watch a game, it should be in person. And I'd rather watch a minor league game. They're more fun, and there's something friendly and familiar about a minor league ballfield.

But it's my idea to visit Cooperstown, and so we walked a couple of miles to rent a car for the trip.. We ended up with a new PT Cruiser (the odometer registered 17 miles), and hit the road just before lunchtime on Monday.

The drive to Cooperstown took us through Sharon and Cherry Valley, and right past Glimmerglass State Park near Lake Otsego. Glimmerglass is the nickname given to Otsego Lake by William Fenimore, whose family home is also Coooperstown. The drive along Hwy 20 is beautiful; there are some great views of the Hudson River Valley as well as the drive along the edge of the lake. We arrived at Cooperstown around 1:30pm, with plenty of time to tour the Hall of Fame.

Cooperstown has more to offer than the Hall of Fame, but you'd never notice if you only stayed on the town's main drag. All of the shops and eateries reference the Hall of Fame in their name and motif, so it's really like being in a baseball amusement park. We drove past the Hall of FAme and didn't see it at first--there's that much to distract your attention. But It;s all there--the plaques that commemorate those who have been inducted into the hall and memorabilia from all of the great players. There's the exhibit honoring broadcasters, a special showing of art celebrating the Negro League players, and of course, a hall that commemorates the Women's League. I enjoyed it all.

We stopped for a late afternoon meal, and then wandered over to Doubleday Field

Pelotons

Monday, June 5. Albany, NY. It's a sign of just how tired we were Sunday night that we forgot to mention two encounters on the road.

Our route follows the Hudson River; this is a river with many faces. From some vantage points, the river is picturesque and I envied the homeowners at these points for their view of the river and surrounding valley. In other places, the river was so brown that I mistook it for a tilled field.

At a few places, our route climbed away from the river, and we rolled through small towns and villages like Greenport and Hudson. It was near Greenport that we spotted the paceline, moving swiftly toward us (they had the tailwind) like a multi-colored ribbon, undulating with the rolls of the road. I love to see groups of riders like this--even though seeing them reminds me how slow and burdened my own riding is. And usually, a paceline is serious. These riders are competitive; their main goal is to leave their buddies in the dust. This makes them very focused on their riding, and even though they may be cycling some of the country's most beautiful backroads, they'll miss the entire view.

So I was not at all prepared for their reaction as they met and passed us on the opposite side of the road. Each and every one of the riders in the paceline wore a complete "kit"--the matching jersey and shorts from a favorite pro cycling team. They were a colorful stream of speed, and I expected them to pass in a blur. But as they passed us, to a man, each one of them sat up in their seats, breaking their race posture. And they whooped, waved and hollered their support of us as they passed! I swear I heard one of them yell "yeah, baby".

They passed us in a flash of spandex, and I was still grinning as we neared Hudson. As we reached a flat stretch of road a convoy of Harleys stretched out in front of us, heading our way. We've seen a lot of motorcyles on the road during our trip, and the majority of them have been Harleys. A swarm of close to a hundred of them passed us on the bridge right before we reached Camp Lejeune. Even single riders are generally friendly; most of them give us a nod or a low-down, low-key flash-of-the-hand.

But this is the first time we've passed a big group of riders coming from the opposite direction, and I start grinning again as we get big arm waves and salutes from every rider. No whooping, though. I don't think they have the lungs for it.

Anyway, I love stuff like that--fleeting, chance encounters with folks whose choice of recreation might be considered odd by the general public. Motorcyclists and bicyclists share something that I think can only be found on two wheels--even the sportiest convertible doesn't give you the same sense of free-wheeling that you get from a bike. No matter how it's powered.

Good things come to those who wait . . .

On our third day in Rhinebeck, NY, we took advantage of a break in the rain (it was just drizzling) and headed over to the library to blog and to investigate the route ahead. Renewed heavy rains east of us, and really throughout the New England area, have re-established threats of flooding and have delayed or set back repair efforts on damaged roads along the intended route. Two bridges on the route, one in York and one inland near Lowell, are out.

All these things led me to explore possible alternatives. We had noticed official bike route signs while we were riding up SR 9, so I looked up NY State bike routes and found one that heads up the Hudson River past Lake George to Port Henry, where we can take a ferry to Burlington; it also goes straight through Ticonderoga, so we can use the same route to return from Burlington. It is nearly the same as the route I had planned on using anyway. Tomorrow, we think we will get to Albany, and perhaps take a day off there, rent a car, and go over to Cooperstown to see the Baseball Hall of Fame. We'll see.

After the library closed, we rode through the drizzle to the theater so we could see the other film playing there, "Sketches of Frank Gehry". We were putting the cover over our bikes when a man asked us if we were just up for the weekend; we were about to answer when we realized it was Fred, the man we had met outside New Paltz just a few days ago! He was there with his wife Pam, who we got to meet at last; they were talking about which film to see. He wanted to see the Al Gore film we saw yesterday, and she wanted to see the Gehry film because she thought it wouldn't come to the theater near them (but that the Al Gore film might). Our presence got them to decide on the Gehry film (which is fascinating, by the way); they told us that there was a Gehry structure, the Sosnoff Auditorium at Bard College, very close by, and that if we wanted they could drive us out there to see it and then we could have dinner afterwards.

What a happy coincidence! Fred and Pam were fun company, full of great stories and information, and we spent a little while at the Sosnoff just looking around. While there, we ran into one of their friends, Jay Wenk, who lives in Woodstock (yes, THAT Woodstock), a WWII vet who also competes in the Senior Olympics, and who also was recently arrested for protesting in front of a military recruiting station (the charges were dismissed later). Neat guy. He was there to see a performance for which we could not get tickets (sold out), so we just lurked around the building. I spent most of the time looking up open-mouthed, just trying to comprehend the structural analysis needed to ensure the thing would not fall down. I'm at a loss, and have to marvel that any building plans reviewer was able to satisfy himself or herself that they understood enough to OK its construction.

I urge everyone to go find some picture of the Sosnoff Auditorium at Bard College. It is colloquially called "Bilbao in the Woods" because it resembles the Guggenheim Museum of Art in Bilbao. Simply beautiful, and amazing.

We enjoyed a nice dinner near the outskirts of Rhinebeck, a place called CJ's, and talked until nearly 10. By the time they dropped us off back at our hotel, we were tired, but completely happy that we had run in to Fred and Pam at the theater. They are truly a unique pair.

Today, as we expected, we made it to Albany by following the NY State DOT Bicycle Route 9. We stopped infrequently, pausing only for snacks a couple of times (at particularly scenic points along the route), before taking a bit longer rest at Castleton-on-Hudson for a sandwich and some veggies. We expected to be in Rensselaer in a couple of miles and to be able to find some hotels in Albany in fairly short order. It had been cold and a bit windy, and we had been rained on a few times, so we were ready to stop.

Of course, I was completely off-base; it was nearly 7 miles before we reached the interchange I was expecting, and upon reaching Albany, at about 58 miles, we headed up Clinton Road expecting to reach Central Avenue, and a collection of hotels, in just a mile or so. SIX miles later, after rolling along past addresses that increased at an appallingly torpid pace, we reached a Scottish Inn next to a bike shop that I was sure was WAY too far out of town when I had looked it up before. Nancy has been having a little shifting issue, and we're going to have the shop look at it while we take a day to go to Cooperstown (we think, for now).

In a day or two, we'll head off up to Fort Edward/Hudson Falls, perhaps camping near there if the weather stays dry. The prospects are iffy, but we'll do what we have to do. We've talked with our friends Kurt and Holly in Burlington to let them know we should be there by the weekend; even though the hot tub might not be done, we'll still be able to go to some of the local breweries and to Ben and Jerry's, of course.

In the meantime, we're going to enjoy the Hudson River valley, the Capitol region, and the eastern edge of the Adirondacks. Omitting the New England area cuts some time and distance off the route, and we are disappointed to have to miss it; but in exchange we now have the opportunity to see the St. Lawrence seaway and parts of Quebec and Ontario we would not have been able to see otherwise. Our intermediate goal now is to be near Niagara Falls on or before July 1, the Canadian Independence Day; should be a fun celebration there for that. So, the adventure continues!

Another Rain Delay

Saturday, June 3. Still in Rhinebeck, NY, still raining. Fortunately, Rhinebeck has a wonderful new library (Starr Library) with internet access for all. While I'm jotting this note, Matthew is researching alternate routes in the Northeast. Maine and New Hampshire have had a lot of rain recently, and are getting more again this week. We've looked at the DOT websites for NH and ME--a lot of roads and bridges are under water and/or closed. So it looks as though we might be taking NY State Bike Routes up to Vermont, and then picking up our planned route once we see our friends Kurt & Holly (and Ben & Jerry). Meanwhile, we're seeing all there is to see of Rhinebeck. And perhaps a little bit more. I was wondering why we kept seeing so many villages, rivers and creeks with the word "kill" in their name. I asked at the Starr Library, and one of the librarians told me that it came from an Indian word. I looked it up in Wikipedia, which states that kill is a modification of an old Dutch word kille, meaning riverbed or water channel. This term is used in areas such as NY state which have a significant Dutch influence. In Delaware, apparently, they got a little carried away and named one of their creeks "Murderkill". . . OK. Lesson over, this will be on the quiz. I keep forgetting to jot these down, but here are a couple of possible sermon titles that we've seen posted at various churches: "Wal-Mart isn't the only saving place"; "Where Will You Be Spending Eternity - Smoking or Non-Smoking?" And Matthew saw a bumper sticker that read "Darwin Loves You". So, it looks like Matthew has got a new route for us that will take us up NY State Bike Route 9 up to Port Kent (near Keesville) to catch the ferry to Burlington. Should be about 5 to 6 days of riding--let's hope the weather holds. This route will take us to Rensselaer and Albany, through Red Hook, Troy and Waterford, into the Adirondaks and across Lake Champlain to Vermont. This means that we'll miss Maine, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Massachusetts--all states that I would love to see. But the existing road closures and continued rain in that area make it necessary for us to re-evaluate our route. I have been thinking about the reasons why I wanted to make this trip, and I'm finally able to put it into words. This trip is not to see if I can ride my bike across the United States, its to see the United States while riding my bike. As somebody (with 7 Tours de France under his belt) once said, "It's not about the bike". It's about everything that comes with riding the bike, though. All the ups, the downs (literal and mental) and everything in-between. While I'm disappointed to be missing the ride through some of the New England states, I will get the chance to see the Adirondacks. And now, the library is shutting down the computers, so I've got to go. Stay tuned!

Rained Out!

Thursday & Friday, June 2 and 3. Hyde Park to Rhinebeck, NY.

We had planned to take a short day on Thursday, in order to do the tourist-y things in Hyde Park, and then make our way 12 miles down the road to Rhinebeck. So in the morning, we toured FDR's mom's place in Hyde Park, and the Vanderbilt Place in the afternoon. Good plan. FDR's home is modest compared to the 62 mansions that were built along the Hudson from Hyde Park to Albany, but it's still great to see the beautiful wood bannisters and the fabulous library and dining room addition that was built after FDR, Eleanor and the kids moved in. At the stables, we were able to hear Eleanor's recollections about the stables and horses on the family estate. The rose garden surrounds FDR's grave--again a very simple place, not far from the tree-lined walkway where during his self-enforced therapy, he learned to cope with his braces and the loss of the use of his legs.

It was incredibly hot and humid by the time we made it to the Vanderbilt's chateau at Hyde Park, and just as we got inside the mansion, it started to rain. Heavily. Followed by hail. The tour guide was very entertaining, and we were able to see nearly all of the house. The Vanderbilts' (this branch of the family, anyway) paid their staff and servants double the going wages, and it was their policy that the staff should "help themselves" to whatever food they needed from the garden, kitchen and pantry. They servants had their own cook, who worked side-by-side with the family cook--dinners for the staff were the same meals as for the V's and their guests. Mrs. V was very pretensious, apparently, and maybe this played a role in their generosity with the staff.

About the time that the rainstorm let up, the house tour was finished, so we decided to stroll down to the Italian Garden. Some of the garden walls pre-date the Vanderbilts' ownership of the property, but they added greenhouses, palm houses, a potting shed, reflecting pool and rose garden. The water in the Reflecting Pool has been dyed black, enhance the reflection of a classical statue at the head of the pool. The story is that the Vanderbilt staff referred to the statue as "Barefoot Kate".

By now it's almost 4pm, and we have about 12 miles to ride before we can stop for the night in Rhinebeck. The rain returned about halfway through our ride, forcing us to take cover at a conveniently located State Police complex on Rt. 9. We pulled around back of their building, and found an overhang that would shelter us and our trailers. Apparently we were not considered a threat, since no one came out to find out who we were or what we were doing, but while I was goofing around, working on the sound track for our opera, a sharp rap on the window near me caught my attention. I looked up to see a police officer, waved and smiled. He made a shushing gesture, and then sat back down at his desk. . .

After about a half hour, the rain let up enough for us to continue on our way, and in short order we arrived at the Village Inn and checked in, We walked down to Rhinebeck for dinner at Foster's Coach House. It may not have ever been an actual stable, but it wouldn't surprise me to find out that it was. We sat in Macaroni's "stall", complete with his nameplate and portrait. The walls of the restaurant were filled with every kind of bit and rein imaginable, and a nearly life-size model horse greets each guest at the door. The food was plain, comfort food--just what we were looking for. Tomorrow's weather report was calling for 90% chance of rain, so we resigned ourselves to an enforced rest day.

The morning was overcast, and we thought we had until noon before the heavy rains set in. So we set off to town again, this time on wheels. We've both been needing a haircut, and pretty easily found a barber and salon back to back in town. As Barb cut my hair, I found out that she had returned the day before from an Alaskan cruise. I also found out that the barber that was cutting Matthew's hair is nicknamed "The Butcher"--too late to warn him, though!

The library opened at noon, so after a stop at the local cycle shop we spent some time uploading pix and researching routes. We're still watching to see how all of the rain is going to affect road closures in Maine and New Hampshire. We'll be in Connecticut in a couple of days, and if I survive the CT climbs, we'll be heading up Kancamagus Pass in NH and then on into Maine. We're also keeping an eye on the weather here, but no one seems to have a very good handle on it.

We found an indie move house that was playing "An Inconvenient Truth"--Al Gore's public presentation regarding global warming. The theater was pretty well filled, and I enjoyed the show. I now have something to take my mind off of the upcoming climbs--Florida falling into the ocean. When I was growing up in Los Angeles, there was always talk about CA falling off into the ocean, but that was the result of an earthquake or tsunami. Kind of makes you want to get out and ride your bike!

Which is the plan for tomorrow. We're hoping to make it to a campground in Taconic State Park, and failing that, a hotel in Millerton if the weather is really foul. Doesn't matter--the worst day doing this is still better than not doing it all. Cheers.

Italian Garden at Hyde Park

Fwd: Italian Garden at Hyde Park
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

The Roosevelt's Neighbors

Fwd: The Roosevelt's Neighbors
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

A moment with Eleanor & Franklin

Fwd: A moment with Eleanor & Franklin
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

Hobnobbing at Hyde Park

Fwd: Hobnobbing at Hyde Park
Originally uploaded by nstovall8.

We got into Hyde Park after 5:30pm on Wedneseday, so our touring had to wait

until Thursday, June 1st. Then we visited the home of FDR--actually, his

mother's home. Val-Kill, Eleanor's "cottage" on the estate, was closed for

renovation.