In short order we are on secondary roads that are taking us away from the edge of Lake Erie. We are in communities where there are small farms and many different plant and tree nurseries. The roads are poor, but that seems to be the theme in Ohio so far. Eventually the route takes us back toward the lake where we plan to stop for refreshment at Geneva-on-the-lake.
At this point our plans begin to go awry. A bridge is out and there is a detour that adds time to our ride. As we are looking at maps to see what we can do, a helpful motorist stops and explains that is it well signed and the turn off is about 1/2 mile up the road. It is amazing how often we mis-judge distance when our transport is a car. As it turns out it is 1 1/2 to 2 miles up the road, adding 3 to 4 miles to the route. Nevertheless it is all part of a days work. Eventually we do make the turn into Geneva and are surprised that the atmosphere is more carnival like than expected with arcades, rides, mini-golf, and wide variety of vendor shacks all lining the street. These are permanent fixtures and the gaudy, loud paint selections add to the ambience of the street. There are not many people in the streets as it still mid morning and perhaps it is coming to the end of the season a bit. We do find refreshment in the form of a donut vendor who has been there since 1938. Brian says he is a connoisseur of junk food and this is a quality donut. He is right. They were out of coffee, so we decide to slow pedal down the street.
From behind me I hear, "ugh". I turn to see Brian bent over his bike squeezing his rear tire. Flat. After some unsuccessful investigation as to the cause, he has to pull things apart and change a tire. As he is working under the shade of a Gyro shack, I give my moral support from a park bench a few feet away. While he was struggling with the tire, I think I napped a minute. Not much support, I must admit, but bicycle tire change is a one man job. It is.
Soon the tire is changed and I get a cup of coffee from a small roadside joint with a crass and obnoxious waitress. She is harmless and somewhat funny, but admittedly I am glad to leave the half finished coffee behind.
The views from the road are more variety of houses, cottages and rentals, with views of Lake Erie. We pedal over what feels like cobbled road to lunch where we grab a sandwich and some rest. Just a few miles down the road after lunch we enter Pennsylvania where the road is gloriously smooth. It is fresh wide pavement and we are happy to be on it. As a matter of fact, when the section of new road ends, the old road they were tearing up was better than the roads we were on in Ohio. We pass some vineyards right along the side of the road where we snap some photos of the grapes hanging from the vines. A bit further down the road Brian ask is the tire is low again. Sure enough, another flat. This time, however, he thinks he has found the problem. The wheel tape has shifted and looks like the tune has rubbed against the spoke ends to cause the slow leaks. As he is breaking down the bike again, two touring cyclist from Geneva, Switzerland pull along side. While Brian is slaving over the tire change, I spend the time talking and comparing notes with our cycling kinsmen. Again, I am not very helpful, but it is a one man job. It is. Brian does a temporary repair on the wheel tape, replaces the tube and we are off again.
The stress and frustration of two flats creep into the ride and we are anxious to get to our destination. Fortunately, our Motel is within one mile of a bike shop. A huge help. We drop off our gear and head to the shop where the bike mechanic confirms Brian's diagnosis and she makes quick work of the repair. Relieved that the problem seems to be solved. We head out for some fish dinner, preparing for our ride to New York tomorrow.
Moose Search: not a chance. 0
Song in my head: Tom Waits; Broken Bicycles
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