I left the Buffalo area with rain threatening in the morning. The Weather Channel radar showed a large green area of rain over Ohio and Lake Erie heading eastward, so I knew it would not be long before it arrived. As I drove down highway 60 towards Jamestown the skies behind me were dark and thick with falling rain. In front of me, the skies were mostly clear, I drove through a couple squalls, but mostly seemed to be barely staying ahead of the worst of it.

I turned east onto highway 17 and worked my way through the Allegany Mountains. This is a beautiful area, with rolling hills covered with a wide variety of trees. It served as the first reminder that New York State is an incredible place. The reality is different than most people probably think. When I say I am from New York, it is readily apparent that they are thinking, "Oh, you’re from New York City!"

However New York State is mostly rural. If you were to try and guess which state in the continental United States has the largest wilderness area, you’d better try New York. The Adirondack Park is six million acres in size! This park is larger than the state of Rhode Island, though that is not saying much.

I decided to spend a couple days in the Finger Lakes area. The lakes are in west central New York. The half dozen plus lakes are thin and long, running north-south. I stayed at Taughannock Falls State Park, which is near the southern end of Cayuga Lake, one of the largest of the Finger Lakes. The city of Ithaca is at the southern tip of the lake, home to Cornell University and Ithaca College, which my elder brother Allen attended.

The campground was very wooded with tall fir and alder trees. This makes for a great campground, but it posed a huge challenge to get the satellite dish tuned in. But determination and spare coaxial cables allowed me to find a tiny hole through the foliage that allowed me to get a signal. The dish was almost 95 feet away from the camper, but hey, it was working!

I went for a great late afternoon ride up the western shore of Lake Cayuga on County Road 89. It was remarkable because of the way the sinking sun lit the lake and the eastern shoreline. It was truly pretty. Then I noticed that the sun seemed to disappear pretty darn quickly. While my attention had been fixed on the water to the east, a huge thunderhead had formed to the west. I turned around and beat feet back to camp.

I got settled in after dark, and soon started hearing the thunder. The winds whipped up pretty ferociously. I tuned in the Weather Channel, and was able to see the thunderstorms approaching the area I was in. Technology is a wonderful thing. As if I needed proof that a thunderstorm was approaching!

For about an hour the skies dumped very heavy rain down upon the Taughannock Falls State Park and surrounding areas. One gauge of how hard the rain was is the satellite dish. About the only weather that will interfere with reception is extremely heavy rain. I did indeed lose the signal on and off for an hour. And the lightning strikes were discomfortingly near. But eventually the storms passed and the rest of the night was pretty uneventful.

The next day I decided to move to another of the Finger Lakes. I headed northwest about 50 miles to Sampson State Park. It is located right on Seneca Lake, which is the largest of the Finger Lakes. This is a big park, with about 400 sites. It is very popular, since on a Monday it was nearly full.

After getting set up, I hopped on the bike and went for a great ride, circumnavigating Seneca Lake. I headed first up to the town of Geneva, at the northern tip of the lake, where I grabbed some lunch. I ate it at a park on the lake, where a bunch of folks were working to dismantle tents and pavilions for what looked like a fair or other event. Only when I was leaving did I discover that it was billed as the "Seneca Lake Whale Watching Festival". Huh? I would have to guess it’s going to be a LONG wait until someone spots one.

I continued south on the western side of the lake on Highway 14. I couldn’t always see the lake, but the road was free of morons and rustically rural. I went through the town of Dresden, where there were a fair number of Amish folks driving horse-powered carriages. I went further south and wound up at the southern tip of the lake at Watkins Glen. A nice trip up Highway 414 got me back to camp.

The next morning I de-camped and headed east into Syracuse to send out another email update and do some shopping. I found Highway 20 and headed east. This turned out to be a real roller coaster of a ride. Up pretty steep hills of the Adirondacks, then down steep grades. Then up again, then down again. It made for a pretty long drive.

I was heading towards a state park recommended by some camping neighbors I talked with the night before. It turned out to be a bit difficult to find. I had to go rambling around on a number of small county roads. The roads were so small they were not even on my Rand McNally map. The signage for the park was utterly inadequate. I stopped for directions 3 times, and the first two times I either heard wrong or they were having some fun with a visiting dirt bag tourist.

I eventually found the park, and it was worth the long drive, despite the fact I got in too late for a bike ride. Gilbert Lake State Park is deep in the woods, and very picturesque. The silence later in the evening after folks settled down was almost total. It was a very nice night.

The next morning I drove a little bit down the road and stopped in Cooperstown, site of the Baseball Hall of Fame. I had been considering going in for a visit, but the lines were incredibly long. Besides, I’m really not that much of a baseball fan. I am certainly a Mariners fan, and when some of them make it in the Hall, I’ll go back.

I headed northeast and drove through Cobleskill, where another brother went to college. I hadn’t planned this sibling college town route, it just seemed to happen. I made it to Schenectady and turned north heading for Lake George. I was planning to stay there for a couple days so I could get in some good rides in Adirondack Park.

I arrived in early afternoon and got set up, then hopped on the bike for an afternoon ride. Lake George is an extremely popular resort area, in part since it is not that far from New York City. It was very crowded with tourists doing tourist things.

I rode up the western shore of Lake George, a very pretty lake. Then at the small town of Hague I headed west on Highway 8 into the Park for a little loop ride back to camp. The weather was beautiful, these roads were nearly empty, and it turned out to be a great afternoon.

The next morning I left for what turned out to be a spectacular bike ride. I headed into Lake George and went northwest on Highway 28 into the Adirondack Park. Pretty much as soon as you leave the lakeshore you are in the mountains. The road winds through lush evergreen forests, with the smell of the conifers almost overwhelmingly strong.

Highway 28 follows the far northern stretch of the Hudson River. It is very near the headwaters of the river, so it is almost more like a large stream. You could throw a rock across it with ease.

A little down the road I arrived at Blue Mountain Lake. Like so many of the lakes in this area, there are numerous resorts. And this time of year they are crowded, even in mid-week. Most have "no vacancy" signs posted. On a Thursday.

I headed north on Highway 30. This road has won several national awards for the low environmental impact it imposes on the terrain. It is a spectacular road. It has just the right amount of curves and high visibility of the scenery. I almost turned around and rode it again.

At Tupper Lake (I don’t think they make plastic food containers there) I turned onto Highway 3, which is just as wonderful as Highway 30. It winds through the mountains and comes into Saranac Lake. This is yet another resort town, but is very pretty. I stopped for lunch and met a few local bikers. They asked about the route I had taken so far, and what I planned for the rest of the day. They agreed wholeheartedly that I had chosen wisely.

They were headed in basically the same direction, so we traveled together for an hour or so. Leaving Saranac Lake, You arrive pretty soon in Lake Placid, site of the 1932 and 1980 Winter Olympics. It is the current site of extensive training facilities for the US Winter Olympic team.

At the eastern side of Lake Placid, you run across the ski jump facility. If you’ve ever seen ski jumping on television, you know they race down a long ramp and then fly through the air. When you are there in person looking up, you appreciate just how high up in the air these ski jumps are. Personally, I cannot imagine launching myself down that steep ramp and flying off into the wild blue yonder. I’m certain my screams would be heard over any crowd noises.

Leaving Lake Placid, the road continues east through stunning forests and roadside lakes. The Adirondacks Park is truly beautiful. In the summer. You would have to really like snow-related activities to be here in the winter.

I headed to the eastern edge of the park and across to Lake Champlain. This is a huge lake that separates New York and Vermont. I followed the shore until I ended up at Fort Ticonderoga. This is a very historic fort. The French built it in 1750. Their reason for the fort was to control the lake below the bluff it sits upon, since the body of water formed a connection between the St. Lawrence Seaway and the Hudson River.

The British tried a couple times to take the fort over the next decade, finally taking it around 1865. As the Revolutionary War got underway, Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys made a surprise attack and took the fort. They rolled the cannons down to Boston, which turned out to be a critical factor in the success of the battle there.

I continued south following the shore of Lake George, and eventually made it back to camp. This had been a completely stunning day’s ride.

The next morning I de-camped and headed south to Saratoga Springs, then cut east to Highway 4, which winds along the Hudson River. The river is on the left and numerous houses on the right. An awful lot of the houses had signs on their lawns that were protesting the dredging of the Hudson River. I presume this is a hot issue here.

Based on the number of signs, public sediment is heavily against the dredging.

At the city of Troy I turned east and hopped on Highway 7 heading towards Vermont and New England. Once I crossed the border the highway becomes Route 9, and you enter the Green Mountains. This drive turned out to be a blessing and a curse.

The blessing is that it was spectacularly beautiful. The Green Mountains are just stunning, and the scenery made it a challenge to concentrate on the road. Then there’s the curse part. It was midday Friday in the summer, so the roads were pretty clogged with tourists. Most of these tourists were from New York City. Need I say more?

The morons-per-mile factor was extremely high. Compounding this is the fact that the road is another roller coaster, steep grades up and down. Further complicating the drive is the fact that you go through small towns, not designed for handling the volumes of vehicles. So driving through each town meant crawling along at a snail’s pace for 15 or 20 minutes.

I did my best to ignore the morons, and mostly succeeded. I made it through the area and entered Brattleboro, Vermont. This was my destination for the day, and found the camp and got settled in.

It was another beautiful day, sunny and in the low 80’s. In other words it was a little bit cool, but not bad for New England. I went for a great afternoon ride to of all places, Highway 9. The same road I had just driven over complaining constantly about the morons on the road. However, now I am on the bike.

The steep hills and downgrades now became a source of pleasure, and the bike roared and thundered through the hills and valleys. This road was made for motorcycles. And there were plenty of them on the road along with me.

I made a pit stop at the Hog Back Mountain scenic area. I would have stopped just because of the name, but it was also an incredible viewpoint. The claim is that you can see 100 miles from this spot. I don’t doubt it, since the distant mountains were a long ways away through the crystal clear air. Nice place!

I worked my way back to my campsite and spent a nice evening. My neighbors insisted on feeding me some superior barbecued chicken. I was a pushover, and helped them dispose of several birds. These nice folks are from Montreal, and talked for a while about the long-standing mess with the separation movement up in Quebec. It is a frustrating situation for every Canadian, with no real resolutions imminent. What it has meant for Montreal is that businesses have migrated to Toronto, leaving the mess behind them, Montreal remains a culturally rich city, but is struggling with economic woes.

The next morning I went for yet another outstanding ride. I headed east through the early morning fog to Keene, New Hampshire. This is where my dear Mother’s family hails from, so it holds a special place in my heart. I continued east through Nashua and made my way through the tangle of roads leading through eastern New Hampshire towards Maine.

I wriggled my way up the coast of Maine to Kennebunkport, a small coastal town. I wanted a good seafood lunch, and was certain I came to the right place. I found a small place and ordered the Maine Munch, a medley of all things good from the local waters. It started with some great New England clam chowder. Then the main dish of lobster, crab, clams, abalone, and fish, all in a big bowl of soup. Absolutely delicious!

I headed back west and did a freeway ride to Manchester, then north to Concord and turned west towards the Vermont border. I hooked on over to Highway 12. This wonderful road runs right alongside the Connecticut River. It is a fantastic ride. It would even be nice if you were in a car. As I continued south in the waning light of early evening, there was a half-moon shining brightly in the southern sky, visible over the New England hills and mountains. Jeez, it doesn’t get much better than this.

I made it back just as darkness was settling in. A long day on the bike, but most wonderful. I got the bike tucked in for the night, had a quick dinner and called it a very good day.

The Mariners continue to amaze. And the press continues to cover superstars on teams with records far behind the M’s.

Here’s a postscript on my visit to the Black Hills area. My friend Howard from Seattle pointed out that the Sioux Nation considers the Black Hills to be an area deeply rooted in their religion. And they consider the carving of Mount Rushmore to be an act of desecration to the mountain.

On a similar note, I happened to catch a PBS show about three Native American Tribes that face continuing conflicts with their religions and American society. One of the tribes covered was the Lakotas of South Dakota. The Lakota Nation considers Devil’s Tower a deeply religious part of their culture. They call it "Mato Tipila", which means "Lodge of the Bear".

They have objected for years to the large number of rock climbers who nearly daily ascend the huge monolith, often interfering with ceremonies the Lakotas are conducting. This struggle has been moving back and forth through the courts for quite a while, without clear resolution for either side.

An interesting sidebar is that although the courts so far have refused to stop the climbers on Devil’s Tower, climbing on Mount Rushmore is strictly forbidden. Go figure…