Brockport, NY – before I say anything, I’d like to give a big ‘thank you’ to all of my relatives in Cleveland. You really rolled out the welcome mat for me, and I had a wonderful time.
I also, as it turns out, have wonderful timing. The last night I spent at my uncle’s house west of Cleveland proper, the eastern Cleveland suburbs got socked with torrential rains – up to 12 inches in some places. If it weren’t for my staying a third day, I would’ve had to bike through that stuff. As it was, the following afternoon many of the roads were still closed in that area and I ended up having to abandon the mapped route for a while. The first night out of Cleveland, I stayed in a campsite on Lake Erie that was about 200 feet away from a spectacular pile of wrecked sailboats; their moorings had ripped right off during the rainfall. (Making the spot even more scenic, the campsite was about ¼ mile from a nuclear power plant.)
The day after that, I was out of Ohio. Not to offend any relatives, but Ohio was mostly extremely dull biking. The route actually goes right through downtown Cleveland, passing by some bazillion-dollar mansions, great views from the waterfront, and landmarks like the new Browns stadium and the rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame (which I skipped, as I’ve been there before and it’s $20 to get in.) It also cruises past Case Western Reserve University and some wonderful museums and gardens.
But that was Cleveland proper. The problem was what lay for 50 miles on either side: suburbs. Endless, repetitive, boring, heavily trafficked suburbs that stretched all the way into the Pennsylvania panhandle. It was not, shall we say, a highlight.
That all started to change in Pennsylvania, though; the houses thinned out and were replaced by vineyards and orchards; the road rose up and afforded grand views of the lake on my left and distant hills on my right. This scenery kept up into New York, when the route takes an interesting little turn into Canada.
Apparently seeking to avoid the madness of Niagara Falls, NY, the route jumps across the river past Buffalo to Canada, where it follows a bike trail to the falls on the Canadian side. Except you’re not avoiding anything, because Niagara Falls, Ontario was also a madhouse. The falls themselves are an amazing, awesome sight, but it’s hard to get too moved by the spectacle when you’re surrounded by literally thousands of people. I haven’t seen a crowd that big since Boston for the New Year’s fireworks. It was unreal.
I’m not a big fan of crowds (perhaps you’d noticed) so my visit to the Falls was pretty perfunctory. No Maid of the Mist, not even a stop in the doubtless unbearably tacky streets lying behind the waterfront. My only pit stop before leaving the area was to a brand-new, rather enormous Buddhist stupa they put up less than a mile from the falls, including a maybe 25-foot tall statue of the Buddha himself. What the heck it was doing there, I couldn’t say, but it’s hard to beat that for a random cultural experience.
Back in the USA again, I arrived yesterday afternoon at one has proven to be one of the highlights of the trip – the Erie Canal. As the subject line suggests, the route follows a bike path along the canal for close to 90 miles; I’m probably about halfway along that.
The canal route is incredible. All it is is a gravel path next to a wide, shallow, turbid waterway – which means that, except for the regular road bridges passing overhead, it looks pretty much like it did in 1825. The countryside along the canal is just that – countryside, farms and fields stretching off along country lanes. Sometimes its hard to believe I’m in the same state as Manhattan.
And the towns along the canal are wonderful. The canal hasn’t been used for anything but pleasure craft for years, but somehow all of these towns that grew up along the canal are still surviving and thriving. Most of them are still centered along the canal, and each one has a gaily painted drawbridge stretching across the waterway on its respective Main Street. (Low bridge, everybody down!) I really feel like I’m biking through another era, or at least a 90-mile-long history lesson. After a long stretch of blah, New York is lifting my spirits immeasurably. And after the canal, it’s back to the mountains! I can’t wait.
I also, as it turns out, have wonderful timing. The last night I spent at my uncle’s house west of Cleveland proper, the eastern Cleveland suburbs got socked with torrential rains – up to 12 inches in some places. If it weren’t for my staying a third day, I would’ve had to bike through that stuff. As it was, the following afternoon many of the roads were still closed in that area and I ended up having to abandon the mapped route for a while. The first night out of Cleveland, I stayed in a campsite on Lake Erie that was about 200 feet away from a spectacular pile of wrecked sailboats; their moorings had ripped right off during the rainfall. (Making the spot even more scenic, the campsite was about ¼ mile from a nuclear power plant.)
The day after that, I was out of Ohio. Not to offend any relatives, but Ohio was mostly extremely dull biking. The route actually goes right through downtown Cleveland, passing by some bazillion-dollar mansions, great views from the waterfront, and landmarks like the new Browns stadium and the rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame (which I skipped, as I’ve been there before and it’s $20 to get in.) It also cruises past Case Western Reserve University and some wonderful museums and gardens.
But that was Cleveland proper. The problem was what lay for 50 miles on either side: suburbs. Endless, repetitive, boring, heavily trafficked suburbs that stretched all the way into the Pennsylvania panhandle. It was not, shall we say, a highlight.
That all started to change in Pennsylvania, though; the houses thinned out and were replaced by vineyards and orchards; the road rose up and afforded grand views of the lake on my left and distant hills on my right. This scenery kept up into New York, when the route takes an interesting little turn into Canada.
Apparently seeking to avoid the madness of Niagara Falls, NY, the route jumps across the river past Buffalo to Canada, where it follows a bike trail to the falls on the Canadian side. Except you’re not avoiding anything, because Niagara Falls, Ontario was also a madhouse. The falls themselves are an amazing, awesome sight, but it’s hard to get too moved by the spectacle when you’re surrounded by literally thousands of people. I haven’t seen a crowd that big since Boston for the New Year’s fireworks. It was unreal.
I’m not a big fan of crowds (perhaps you’d noticed) so my visit to the Falls was pretty perfunctory. No Maid of the Mist, not even a stop in the doubtless unbearably tacky streets lying behind the waterfront. My only pit stop before leaving the area was to a brand-new, rather enormous Buddhist stupa they put up less than a mile from the falls, including a maybe 25-foot tall statue of the Buddha himself. What the heck it was doing there, I couldn’t say, but it’s hard to beat that for a random cultural experience.
Back in the USA again, I arrived yesterday afternoon at one has proven to be one of the highlights of the trip – the Erie Canal. As the subject line suggests, the route follows a bike path along the canal for close to 90 miles; I’m probably about halfway along that.
The canal route is incredible. All it is is a gravel path next to a wide, shallow, turbid waterway – which means that, except for the regular road bridges passing overhead, it looks pretty much like it did in 1825. The countryside along the canal is just that – countryside, farms and fields stretching off along country lanes. Sometimes its hard to believe I’m in the same state as Manhattan.
And the towns along the canal are wonderful. The canal hasn’t been used for anything but pleasure craft for years, but somehow all of these towns that grew up along the canal are still surviving and thriving. Most of them are still centered along the canal, and each one has a gaily painted drawbridge stretching across the waterway on its respective Main Street. (Low bridge, everybody down!) I really feel like I’m biking through another era, or at least a 90-mile-long history lesson. After a long stretch of blah, New York is lifting my spirits immeasurably. And after the canal, it’s back to the mountains! I can’t wait.
2 Responses to “...86 Miles on the Erie Canal”
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About me
I'm Tom Moran, a bicyclist from Fairbanks, Alaska. I'm spending the summer of 2006 riding from Anacortes, Wash., to Bar Harbor, Maine.
Well, yeah, you can think that about Ohio if you stay in the CRAP PART of it...
What a great site
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