Day 58. Irving to Brockport, 45 miles

I woke up around 5:45 and cracked the curtains; it was pouring rain. Feeling smug about my decisions, I made myself a cup of coffee, climbed back into bed, and caught up on my Heather Cox Richardson, read some articles, futzed with the spreadsheet, cemented my last weekend night’s accommodations 🥺, and enjoyed being able to move around the room and brush my teeth and all while it continued to pour rain outside. Outside where I did not live today because of good decisions!

When the rain let up around 9:30, I walked to the gas station for provisions and then walked around a bit.

I stayed at the motel until nearly checkout, enjoying the luxury of a dry, cool room, knowing I had a night of no-shower camping ahead of me and a short, super chill day on trail. ALL ON TRAIL.

It was a short ride down a big hill to get to the trail. But there was a cute park with an historical marker on the way, and I stopped for a quick learn ‘n sit. Did you know about Gargling Oil? I did not. What human ailments was it used to treat? I have questions.

The section of trail from Buffalo to Lockport had been paved and tree lined and just a dream to ride. I knew that after Lockport it turned to what they call crusher fines, which is crushed rock. Because I am lazy and prefer the easiest possible ride (and because I am riding fully loaded), paved is my favorite surface. But crusher fines can be an excellent surface as well, and I was all about a full day on trail. One drawback of crusher fines, though, is drainage: it can get thick and gluey in spots where water gathers, and the trail surface can get corrugated and irregular. And indeed because of the recent rain the trail provided some real resistance for the first few miles, until the sun kicked into high gear and began to dry it. Sun! The one real downside to this lovely trail (and then I’ll turn to all the good stuff) is that it is shadeless: the trees are far enough back from the bank and trail to provide no shade. I assumed this was to protect the canal, and a woman I chatted with in Holley told me the banks used to be tree lined, but they’d ripped out all the trees recently due to erosion concerns. As I used to type endlessly in my baby lawyer days, “I am without sufficient information to form a belief as to the truth or falsity of the allegation.” Not being a practicing lawyer anymore, I will not therefore deny same. In any case, it almost certainly makes maintenance easier.

Okay! Those were the kvetches and cavils (plus a little headwind for the northward bits…)! It was grand. And it was grand for long enough that eventually I desisted from video and photo taking because it was just how I lived for now: on a totally flat, lovely trail alongside a calm, green canal, with absolutely no one on it for some reason, and regularly spaced bridges that provided a shady sit spot.

Sometimes the trail wasn’t so much a trail.

Sometimes there were surprise waterfalls!

Mainly it was just very sticky, fairly slow, and still eminently enjoyable riding. I don’t know why there weren’t more people out; on a Friday afternoon I’d’ve expected more traffic. I put on music for a bit, one of only two times I’ve done so on tour; Yael’s playlist and then my usual wormhole dive into 80s pop kept my energy up for a fun stretch. When I tired of that, I went back to listening to the birds and bugs and soft lapping of the canal waters. I loved waving to the people on boats that would occasionally motor slowly by; what a perfect level of social interaction along a quiet trail!

I arrived in Holley around 5 and found the bridge tower next to which I’d be camping. It was early yet, and there was a guy fishing right across the way, so I went across the road to the park and checked out the restrooms and various gazebos and picnic tables. While I was parked at one, a woman walked by and we started chatting. She told me about the tree removal along the canal and also that there was a waterfall right nearby and also that on Friday nights there are concerts from 6:30-8:30 at the gazebo across the road from the bridge tower.

Armed with all this new and helpful information, I revised my plan: I’d call Ave, whom I’d been trying to connect with, check out this waterfall, make dinner in a playground-adjacent gazebo a ways from concert, and set up after folks left. Not ideal, but así es 🤷🏼‍♀️.

Ave and I caught up 💜, and while talking to her I formulated a new aspect of my plan: I’d go get dinner in town at a bar & grill, then come back, hear some concert, wait for folks to leave, and set up. I also saw the waterfall! It was from a distance, and there wasn’t a good shot to be taken, so no photos for posterity. I intended to go back to the foot of the falls after dinner, but that’s not how things went.

At the restaurant I sat at the bar and ordered a beer and burger, the first one I’ve actually gotten cooked medium rare and the best burger of the trip so far. Holley Falls Bar & Grill, folks! Just as my dinner arrived, a group of bicyclists did as well, several couples a little older than I, it looked like. They asked if it was my bike outside and had all sorts of good questions, but a merciful gentleman among them told them to leave me be until I had eaten, and I thanked him and promised I’d love to answer questions as soon as I’d eaten. Which I did! It turned out one of the guys runs bike tours, and he’d gotten the rest of them into biking. He came over and chatted, and they asked where I was staying. They said Brockport, 5 miles on, had camping with showers, which I hadn’t known/realized. I knew a bike shop provided bike camping, but no showers, but these folks said the visitors center had showers and allowed camping. Unfortunately, the center itself closed at 8, so the showers wouldn’t be available maybe, and it was around 7:15 now. Regretfully, I decided to stick to my plan, unsure if it was the right decision. A few minutes later, the bike tour guy came back and said he’d been setting up a planned biker Airbnb on the second floor of a place he and his wife (who was there and had been asking some of the questions) owned in Brockport, and it wasn’t totally done, but I was welcome to stay there if I wished, that it had a shower and would be quiet. I nearly plotzed, you guys. I mean.

I accepted without hesitation, and he gave me the lockbox code and address and refused any payment, asked me to pay it forward, which: this trip has given me so many gifts to pay forward, and I only hope I can live up to that responsibility. Keep me accountable, y’all! Generosity of spirit is a quality I try to cultivate, but it takes attention and work. I texted Andrew, restarted tracking, and jumped on my bike, reluctantly turning down an offer of a beer from the couple sitting next to me. On the way out of town on the trail I caught a snippet of the concert from across the canal. It was a very sweet scene, very small town America.

The light was strange, all heavy grey and gold, and I felt so fortunate, so uplifted. Being a white woman on the road is interesting: everyone is very protective of you—and often paternalistic—and while the general sentiment is that it’s dangerous out there and I need to be careful, there are an awful lot of people taking good and much-appreciated care of me. The world, as I’ve said to many folks, has never really given me much reason to be afraid of it, and so I’m not. I’m still a New Yorker by birth! I am careful in various ways I won’t enumerate, but I am comfortable moving around in the world, and that is a gift I want to recognize and acknowledge.

I arrived in Brockport, and the light was gorgeous and pink on the gracious brick buildings and the town adorable, but all I wanted was a shower, and I knew I’d have time to linger in the morning because I had another shorter day. (This is one of the ones Andrew and I split up in Ann Arbor.) So I went straight to the place, let myself in and got my stuff upstairs, opened some windows, and took a shower. After texting with Andrew for a bit, I called it a night.