Hello. Day 43. Rest day in Niagara Falls, NY. 0 miles. 0 feet of climbing.
I’m delighted to tell you that all of the Daily Sightings for the tour thus far are now posted on our Bike Brothers blog.
A huge thank you to Portland Scott, who helped us launch our blog and has been the brains behind it ever since.
We learned at our RAP session yesterday that we’ve passed the 3,000 mile mark and that we’ve climbed about 87,000 feet.
These three began their day watching the washers (Knoxville Deb and Greg, and Dave):
Mid-morning, Dave and I walked to Goat Island (on the American side) to get a closer look at the American Falls:
Here’s a picture looking down from the top of Bridal Veil Falls (next to the American Falls). The folks in slickers took an elevator down to the base.
Then we walked for about 10 minutes to the edge of the Canadian Falls. Heavy mist dampened us as we edged our way through tourists to the railing.
Missed a photograph of a Buddhist monk taking a selfie with the Falls in the background.
Tired legs by the time we got back the hotel around noon.
Here are a couple of pictures from last evening.
The afternoon’s agenda: nap, read, forage for a mid-afternoon snack.
Here’s our route for the final leg of the tour. Next Monday we meet the Atlantic.
Tomorrow: It will be good to be back on the bike. 87 miles to Rochester.
Here is part 14 of Portland Tom’s epic poem:
O Canada, true northern friend,
Different, yet of the same past,
Your view of our current state
In parts amused and aghast.
The province of Ontario
Stretches up to Hudson Bay,
Most of it empty,
Too cold and snowy they say.
The Bike Brothers rode cross the border,
Reconnect with their Canadian roots,
They woke up super early,
Could not wait to be oot and aboot.
“The other season here is winter” Martin said,
“So it is good we arrived in July,”
And though Stabler thought “What a hoser,”
He was much too polite to reply.
Between Huron and Erie
They ride on their way
To the Golden Horseshoe
By Lake Ontario waterway.
In a rough patch they find,
Like America’s rust belt,
Manufacturing in decline.
“We ride well today, eh?”
Martin began to extol,
Stabler just laughed
And thought him exceedingly droll.
They stopped at a Tim Hortons
For a double-double and hot bowl,
They asked about Justin Bieber,
“We turfed him out” they were told.
On to the great Niagara
Where thunder hangs in the air,
Cataracts of white water falling,
Little else can compare.
It’s now been six weeks
Since they have been on the roam,
Between bites of a butter tart
They had thoughts of home:
“I love cycling,” said Martin,
“And being out on the road,”
“But our little adventure
Does sometimes get old.”