On Monday a ride of about 50 miles got me to New London Ct where the ferry departs for the east end of Long Island. I had a brief rest stop at Mystic Seaport. From the ferry terminal in New London I used my GPS search program to locate and make a reservation for camping about ten miles from the ferry landing on the Long Island. Motels were costing up to $230 for a single so. $35 camp site looked pretty good. Got off the ferry at about 6:30 and had a great evening ride to the campground. Eastern Long Island is rural land; farming with the coastal areas developed as fancy resorts or vacation stuff.
There were two small stories from the day. In Connecticut I came upon a flag lying at the edge of the shoulder. I stopped, of course, and then I saw right by my bike wheel, a hacksaw blade. I picked up the blade and went into the woods off the shoulder where I found, cut and trimmed a branch of the right size. The flag had a sleeve stitched into the attaching end so I slipped the flag onto the stick and stuck the flag out on the left side on my bike. I'm feeling significantly safer thus displaying my patriotism as I suspect that there are some drivers who, while they might not much mind running over a cyclist, would never run over our flag.
To save on weight I use a rain fly as a tent, but that means it does not come all the way to the ground. Something woke me in the small hours of the morning and in the dimness I made out an animal just outside the fly. I thought it was a cat, but with a closer look I realized that a raccoon had reached under the fly, grabbed my food bag and pulled it outside where it was trying to get it open. I roused myself and took the bag to the restroom which had doors to close. I left it there. In the morning all was fine.
Riding distance for the day was 70 some miles.
There is a marked bike route along Rte 25 and 25A all across the eastern half of the Long Island. For the first half it has a wide shoulder and little traffic, but as one moves west things get tighter. I didn't have a map of the whole island so I was not sure how much progress I was making. Nonetheless I persevered and near day's end I had reached Smithtown which is near the middle. There are three particular uncertainties in such a riding situation. First will the route become impassable for some reason? Second will there be a place to sleep? Third, will the weather go bad? At Smithtown the marked bike route comes to an end. The marked route had become a mixed blessing for the last ten miles or so as it provided a lightly used way, but one with a number of steep hills winding down and up again at several shore side towns. I think staying with Rte 25 or 25A would have been better than following the bike signs. After fooling around for some time trying to find a campground, I settled for an Econolodge. In the process I found a bike shop where the owner gave good advice for the next day.
On Wednesday
I got off around 8:00 AM which is good for me. Following the suggestion of the bike shop owner I made my way to the Long Island Expressway and took the service road that runs along side the main line. Bikes are prohibited from the main line, but at one point I got confused and went up an on ramp. In about a mile there was an exit and I got back on the service road. Eventually the service road came to an end and I had to scurry around looking for another route west. I managed to find Rte 25, known there as Woodbury Road followed it to 107 and then got on the Jericho Turnpike. I record this detail for future reference if I or anyone I know wants to bike into NYC from the east end of Long Island. By this time the towns are basically adjacent to one another and eventually the Jericho Turnpike reaches Queens Village and becomes Jamaica Avenue.
As soon as I hit Jamaica things changed. I was in town. The complexion on the sidewalks turned brown. Even the smells became sweet and powerful. The thing that I have trouble remembering about The Big Apple is that it is big. A street like Jamaica Ave goes on and on. As it does the population and the traffic thicken until finally it is like the streets of Manhattan itself, jammed and jumping with life. At first I ride with care and regard for the lights, but at a certain point a teenager on a bike passes on the sidewalk and dashes through a red light. It reminds me how to ride in NYC. I follow Jamaica until it comes to Atlantic Ave which leads from Queens into Brooklyn and after a long passage to the Brooklyn Bridge. I realize I am energized in a way I am not when riding the country. I am, in fact, an urban bike rider. Beth and I had arranged to meet at the middle of the bridge. Beth, Mere, and I arrived within two minutes of one another at about 3:20. I had done about 55 miles and was tired. We rested for a while and then walked to the apartment of Mere's friend Jill Macklem where we were to stay. Dinner in Little Italy and talk with Jill brought the day to a close.
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