I’m not sure if any of you can relate to this, but as much as I love exploring new places, I find myself drawn to and seeking comfort in the familiar. For that reason, I was happy to see several Mennonite families out working in the fields early this morning, and was comforted by the signs warning drivers to slow down for buggies, even if it looked like the buggies were empty.
In Ithaca, I was thrilled to find a bakery and a running store just two blocks apart. My two favourite stops. The Ithaca Bakery has been a fixture for some thirty years, and it did not disappoint with its array of offerings from croissants to cookies the size of my helmet. I limited myself to a croissant with hazelnut filling: 8/10 on the croissant, I would say, but 10/10 on the filling, which was a perfect reward after the long climb out of Ithaca.
Did I mention it was another day of hills? The day began innocently enough with a gradual climb out of Penn Yan, and then rolled along consistently until a vertigonous descent into Watkins Glen at the southern tip of Seneca Lake. You know what a steep downhill into a place means. Unless you plan to stay forever, you will face a long climb out of it, and it was indeed a punchy climb, heading northeast to Ithaca.
As I approached Ithaca, I saw signs warning truck drivers to check their brakes. I checked mine as well, as my rear brake was squealing yesterday on a very, very steep pitch with a stop sign right at its base, meaning no opportunity to run out the hill. I thought I had burned through my brand new brake pads, but I think they had just overheated from the assault, as they were fine today.
I wish I could provide video of the ride into Ithaca, since it is such a pretty town, but I was on the brakes and taking every turn as tightly as I could, so there was no chance to get out the camera. Still I enjoyed seeing Cayuga Lake once I arrived.
As with Watkins Glen, descending into the town meant a long climb out of it, but I took quiet back roads all the way to Cortland, so I had no one roaring past me, and let’s face it, I am in Trump country where all too many people fly past in trucks with signs pledging to make America great again, or to take back America. Take it back where, I want to ask. To the dark ages?
As soon as I began chatting with the owner of the running store, I could tell he was a Democrat (he runs ultra trail races for goodness sake!) so I felt comfortable asking him about the upcoming election, and the workings of the Democrat party. I learned a great deal, but I can’t say I was any less demoralized after our chat. If anything, I was more struck by how polarized the country is, and how acrimonious people are towards each other when it comes to politics.
Still, it was too beautiful a day to stay deflated for long, so after purchasing a running shirt to remember Ithaca by, I got back on the bike and continued climbing. I am happy to report that my legs felt really good, even on the longer climbs, and I rolled into Cortland with lots of energy to spare.
I am staying at a family-owned motel that was built in 1961 and is now run by the grandchildren, though their 90 year-old mother still does the books. (She looks much older than you do, mum!) I was drawn to this place, as it reminded me of the motels I stayed in while crossing Canada back in the 80s.
The Main Street is under construction, so was a little short on charm, but I found a great restaurant, Wild Ginger Asian Fusion, where I got a pad thai dish big enough to fuel me through my entire ride tomorrow.
As I write this, I am sitting on my bed covered with a lovely quilt, enjoying the fresh air through windows I can actually open. On the eve of Pumpkinfest, there is quite a buzz downtown; however, I fear I will be pedalling towards Syracuse before the festivities begin.
I have cycled past so many farm stands, with pumpkins piled high, or arranged from the diminutive to the gigantic, but it’s got to be just the right vibe for that perfect autumn photo. In other words, I guess it has to feel familiar.
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