(Day 8 – June 29) Brockport to Hamilton

The morning was mostly overcast with intermittent rain.

The trip along the canal was like a trip through history. It is hard to imagine the enormous investment and vision that men had to build the canal in the 1800s.  ‎Now, although it is well maintained, it is used only sparingly by cyclist and some boaters.

Interestingly everyone I saw on the Erie Canal was relaxed and noticeably friendly.   The stillness of the canal and the surrounding beauty seemed to have a positive effect.

The route departed from the canal at Lockport and took a more less direct route to the Queenston Bridge to Canada.

The view of the gorge from the Queenston Bridge was as always, gorgeous. I had thoughts of taking a picture in the middle but the traffic was distracting and there wasn’t any shoulder for my bicycle. Canada is wonderful and familiar.

I did not like the route I took through St. Catharines.    The trail beside the Twelve Mile Creek was quite muddy from the recent rains and it was not well maintained.  In retrospect the trip through Niagara on the Lake and skirting the shores through Port Dalhousie would have been better.

The Hamilton Beach trail is especially inviting after the long ride along roads sandwiched between the QEW and the lake shore.

I am staying at Sim’s house again for the night.

(Day 7 – June 28) Selkirk State Park to Brockport

 

The trip from Selkirk to ‎Brockport (apart from the Erie Canal) was the least remarkable of all the legs of the trip.   The route follows roads where the cars seem to be driving too fast with too little shoulder.

I had originally planned to stay in Rochester but the accommodation with warmshowers fell through and I was left to fend for myself.  When I arrived there was nowhere I felt comfortable staying.  As a result I continued cycling.

Just west of Greece I linked up with the Erie Canal.   The Erie Canal is a gem in an otherwise dreary place.   As nice as the canal was I was becoming anxious about accommodation as I cycled passed town after town without finding a place to stay.    There was a beautiful picturesque bed and breakfast right beside the canal but no one answered the bell or the phone.

I felt uneasy doing guerrilla camping beside the canal so eventually I gave in staying at a hotel in Brockport.

(Day 6 – June 27) Kingston to Selkirk State Park

It rained heavily in the night but I slept well.

There was an active rail trestle about 200 yards from the spot where I had pitched my tent. By my reckoning a long freight train passed over every hour or so. The sound was deafening and it seemed to go on for a long time.  Passenger trains ran even more frequently but I don’t recall hearing any during the night. As usual I slept with ear plugs and although they did nothing to silence the roar of the trains I slept very well. Strangely the sound was almost soothing.

In the morning the skies were overcast and the temperature was cool. I packed, took some additional pictures of the locks and rode back through the city to find the ferry to Wolfe Island. On the way I had a breakfast at Tim Horton’s.

I arrived about 45 minutes early for the 9:30am ferry and spent the time trying to catch up on the blog.‎  And right at 9:30 a bunch of cars, one pedestrian with a toddler stroller, and man with a bike boarded the ferry and crossed over to Wolfe Island.

I wish I could say Wolfe Island was uniquely interesting but the route from the Canadian ferry to the US ferry was made up of farmland similar to what you would see anywhere in rural Ontario.

In keeping with noticeably high water on Lake Ontario, the concrete ferry wharf  was under 6 inches of water.   Cars and SUVs (and bikes) managed to board the little ferry through the water nonetheless.  After boarding I crossed over on the ferry and reported to the customs people on the American shore in Cape Vincent by 11:45am.

It started to rain very hard while I ate lunch not far from the ferry station. Fortunately, by the time I resumed cycling the worst of it had passed.

The route from the ferry to Selkirk followed all rural roads through rolling hills. When I arrived at Selkirk I had two danishes for  supper (there were no restaurants), set up the tent and called it a night.