While I was eager to ride around the Finger Lakes, I was most excited to cycle through the Adirondacks, as I haven’t been here since the Lake Placid Ironman in 2008. As my mom, Nancy, and Sarah can attest, it rained all day, making for a challenging 180 km on the bike. I still remember clutching my brakes on the long descents while other cyclists roared past. How did I ever swim 3.8 km before the ride, and run a marathon after it???
Today was entirely different. To begin with, there was no rain, despite some menacing clouds, and at no point was I racing. Anything but. It was a very relaxed day, and though I climbed 1200 meters, there were no hills over 8% grade. I just puttered along, knowing I was not in a rush to arrive at the motel.
Lest I make it sound too easy, I did have to start by navigating from the south of Amsterdam through the city, before getting on Route 30 North. I took the pedestrian bridge over the Mohawk River, then had to push my bike up three flights of stairs to reach the overpass for the freeway as the elevator was out of service. The upside was that both the pedestrian bridge and overpass offered great viewpoints.
I then rode on back streets and sidewalks to avoid the commuters who seemed desperate to get to work, or at least to join the cue for Dunkin Donuts. Once I got beyond the roar of traffic, I relaxed, feeling grateful for the great road with a generous shoulder, and for the many rivers and lakes along the route.
When I reached the town of Speculator, I stopped to buy groceries since there would be nothing close to the motel I had booked. I went to the Mountain Market, which was doing a steady business at the lunch counter, and I ordered a sub. When it was ready, instead of calling out my name, the young man spelled it out. I laughed out loud, then took the sub for R.O.B.I.N. and packed it in my knapsack for later.
The clouds got a little darker, but it never rained. I arrived to the most charming motel, I have ever stayed at, called The Lorca. From the pinewood floors to the comfy duvets and cheerful blankets, the room is warm and inviting. The lighting is golden not cold and sterile, and the touches around the place make it feel so cozy. I really recommend it, if you are ever in the area. It is named after the poet, Frederico Garcia Lorca, and there is a copy of Joan Didion’s Play It as It Lays, and a collection of Walt Whitman’s poetry in the room. It is owned by a group of friends who bought the mid century motel and transformed it into a meditative space where the focus is on nature, meaning no tvs in the rooms. I will be reading some of Didion’s exacting insights on the moral decay of the US, rather than witnessing it myself on Fox News.
Tomorrow I have a brief 80-90 km ride to Tupper Lake, where I plan to spend the day hanging out in the donut shop/laundromat, and perhaps the library. I fear it will be too chilly for the beach. In fact there may be frost this evening.
For now, I will bid you adieu and will go and make myself a cup of hot chocolate.
PS here is my effort to capture Indian Lake from the dock at the marina.
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