Day 4: Middlebury, VT to Long Lake, NY, 85 miles

As the title of the post suggests, I opted to go for it, to set off into the Adirondacks. I got to Ticonderoga, after a beautiful ride through the last of Vermont, and had to make my decision. There was a giant hill out of town, which I could see from the McDonald's where I was deciding. I opted to ride up the hill, and decide from the top, since going back down wouldn't be a problem.

Outside Ticonderoga

At the top, I hated to waste the effort, so I continued on.

The Green Mountains, where came from

The Adirondacks, where I was headed

May I just say from the truly scary squalor of the "Corner Motel" in Long Lake where I currently reside, that I'm sorry I did? Once committed, I had no choice but to bike all the way through the Adirondacks. There's no turning back once you're in. (Actually, I did consider turning back, riding back down to Ticonderoga, but that seemed too unlikely. No. My best option was to do a heroic day today, positioning myself for a descent out of the wilderness tomorrow. In fact, I've had enough of this trip, so I'm going to jump ship when the route guide puts me within 25 miles of Amtrak. I'll catch the train to Rochester on Thursday, two days early. Enough is enough. 

Anyway, one of the problems with biking through the Adirondacks is that they are devoid of people in the off season. I rode on Blue  Ridge Rd (which also had a number from North Hudson to Newcomb. Totally beautiful scenery, beautiful road. But I got sick of it. Just trees and mountains and burbling brooks. What's to like? No traffic. Almost literally no traffic. One car every 10 minutes, maybe. Even that was a little desolate.

The thing about biking, for me at least, is that it's not always a great sight-seeing medium. First thing in the day as the fog is rising from the lake and the birds are twittering, the sun is just lighting up the tops of the mountains, my butt boils haven't started hurting, sure, that's nice and fun. But later in the day, bike touring is about biking. Actually, it's about surviving, reaching the destination. It's just hard to have fun when your butt boils are killing you. Or when you keep hitting granny-gear hill after granny gear hill, as it was on Blue Ridge Mountain Rd. with many many hills, some quite formidable, and there are no distractions, well, it becomes work. It's hard to sight-see when you are slogging. In NH and VT, I didn't experience this, despite the heat. There was variety, there were towns, there were people. I could go from town to town, river valley to river valley. The bike was a good way to get about. But today? Oi. Just hard work. 

So there's not much to report for this day. I rode and rode and rode. My butt hurt. There were no towns, literally no gas stations or convenience stores. Just trees and mountains, all very beautiful, but not very appreciated by the end of the day.

The high point of the day was lunch at the Jellystone Park camp store in North Hudson. A touch of civilization in the wilderness. (Obviously, under any other circumstances, I wouldn't call a Jellystone Park campground civilized. But today it was heaven.) I probably should have just spent the night there. I had done 50 miles or so. I was tired, but not whipped. I could have taken a dip in the pool. Gotten a milkshake from the camp store. Then, another 50 miles through the beautiful but desolate Adirondacks, stopping at Blue Mountain Lake, perhaps, at a state campground (which would have showers. Then, once out of the Adirondacks, I could have gone back to 70 miles days. That would have been fine. But it's not what I did.

I just kept on keeping on. When I finally rolled in to Long Lake, it felt like it was 8:00 pm. It was only 5:30, a perfectly reasonable time to be done. But it had been a long long day. I literally stopped at the first motel I saw, right in the heart of town: The Corner Motel, run by stooped over, legally blind, 90-year-old Fred. The place was a shambles. Hadn't been painted in many years, gutters falling off, screen doors that had no screens or even the original door handles. I even had a look at a room before agreeing to stay. It was horrific. But somehow, I wanted to give Fred the business, and it was close to a restaurant and a quite nice convenience store, and he gave me the biker's deal of $50. Worth at least one penny of that.

The Corner Motel, Long Lake, NY

At least it had a nice setting.

 As with all old scary motels, it had a persistent background stink of stale cigarette. Note to self: If I buy the Corner Motel to run in my retirement, tear out EVERYTHING that might harbor a cigarette stink: Carpets, bedspreads, mattresses, paneling, acoustic ceiling. A cigarette stink is a killer these days. Everyone has gotten used to things NOT smelling of stale cigarettes, and we've come to like it.

What a barbaric society back then, when we thought it was OK to smoke indoors. What else could we have done in the same spirit? Fire up the barbie and having a cookout in your room? Set up a little campfire ring? Bring your dog into the room and let him pee on the bed?

Anyway, these old motels are doomed if they can't solve the cig prob.

So I walked over to the Long Lake Tavern (maybe it was called that) and had a Philly Cheesesteak. The bun was particularly good. As were the two beers.

Fred told me that there was no cable TV because he had been fighting with the cable company. So I didn't get to watch TV on the 12" portable. But I was highly amused to find that the motel has WiFi! The sign out front said "Open All Year!" (not true) and "Free Coffee!" (not true), and "Cable TV" (also not true), but it didn't mention WiFi. The best thing about the motel was the convenience store just around the corner.

Oh! One more thing! Instead of a bath mat, there were paper "bath mats" on which was printed: "Dear Guest: For your convenience we offer you these sanitary bath mats! Just place them on the floor next to the tub or shower." But they were paper! Not even very thick paper. Fred Fred Fred.