6/1 Yesterday Claire and I left Gibsonburg, OH with the winds at our backs. We picked up a bike trail for a short time in Fremont and met an elderly man named Dale along the way. He rode with us for awhile and bought us coffees in Clyde. Dale completed a cross country tour a few years ago and makes it a point to talk to any cycling tourists he sees along the path. After we parted ways, Claire and I continued on to Huron, a town on the shore of Lake Erie. Lake Erie has been our constant companion since, teasing us with its cool waters in this humid weather.
We had planned on making a campground outside Avon Lake, a suburb 20 miles east of Cleveland our stopping point for the evening. Despite some time at a bike shop in Bowling Green, Claire's freewheel continued to make a clunking noise, so we stopped at the bike shop in town before going to the campground. We had the wrong address, so after about 1.5 miles of distance in the wrong direction, we turned around and faced not only the strong winds, but also the front that had been chasing us all day. We rode in pouring rain and hail, but it was all worth it as Claire got every little thing she needed fixed done for free. If you ever find yourself in Avon Lake, OH, be sure to stop by Marty's - they're good people.
While at the bike shop, a woman stopped in to pick up her bike and told us she wished we would ride the final 20 miles to the hostel in Cleveland - the area around it was a former warehouse district that had recently been repurposed into restaurants and bars. Even though we had already ridden about 80 miles, we decided to go for it. The winds were still in our favor and the sun was shining.
The road we took into the city reminded both of us of Lake Drive in Milwaukee - there were times I could have sworn we were in Fox Point. As we stopped to check directions, Claire told me to look behind us - a wall of black clouds was close by. As we made a turn to ride through the majestic mansions of the nearby suburbs, any remaining light disappeared from the sky and rain fell in sheets.
The rain carried us into the city, where the mansions disappeared and were replaced by rundown apartment buildings and boarded up businesses. Like most Rust Belt cities, Cleveland has seen an increase in unemployment and a decrease in population in recent years. It has, however, been taking creative measures to revitalize certain areas, and if I had read any of the articles about it in my American Planning Association magazine, I might know some specifics, but some of the efforts seemed apparent as new, vibrant restaurants and retail were mixed in with the vacant businesses, something that I wish would happen more in Milwaukee, but I think we still have the larger segregation issue to deal with first.
We ended the day at 103 miles - the most either of us has ridden in one day (with the exception of the Riverwest 24). Our hostel was lovely, and was surrounded by many restaurants with good beer selections. We each ate a whole pizza and had a few beers. Our hostel had a rooftop deck, so we headed out there before going to sleep and were greeted with fireworks over downtown. It was a wonderful day.
Even though I really enjoyed the city, I did not enjoy getting out of it today. When Milwaukee's freeways were first planned, one was slated for what is, and was, Lincoln Memorial Dr. Luckily Mayor Meier (I believe) nixed that idea and we now have a beautiful lakefront with parks, beaches, and museums. Cleveland did not go the same route. Our first road paralleled the freeway, with the lake on our left. A few parks gave people access to the water, but there were no beaches and no seemingly easy way to get to them. Soon we turned away from the freeway and were in a suburb, where our road was smooth and lined with stately mansions. Cleveland dips back to the north between suburbs, and its reappearance was made obvious by the absence of tree-lined streets and the increase in potholes (I was trying to determine whether Milwaukee or Cleveland had worse streets; in our particular stretches of road, I'd say Cleveland took the cake). We continued on through this last bit of Cleveland and passed through several more suburbs to the east, though none boasted the huge homes like those closest to the city.
Although the majority of my daily riding is on city streets, on trips like these, urban riding makes me feel stagnant. I much prefer stretches of rural roads connecting tiny towns to the constant sea of concrete and development close to cities, with the separation of towns only made obvious by the change in pavement and a population side along the road. Today felt long, and even when we had left the more populated area surrounding Cleveland, we still had nearly constant homes by our sides. I'll probably have to get used to it, though, as our next few days will bring us through cities like Erie, PA, Buffalo, Rochester, and Syracuse. I always feel anxious near cities when on tour, like my legs need the freedom afforded by roads with few vehicles and stop signs, my eyes need the peaceful view of prairies and farmlands, and my mind yearns to wander the way it can when not concentrating on dodging potholes and cars.
6/2 Today we crossed the border from Ohio to Pennsylvania and then from Pennsylvania to New York. As we neared the New York border, I waved at a cyclist heading in the opposite direction. It occurred to me that he had probably been in New York just a few minutes ago. State lines have always seemed like magical places to me. As a child, I thought about how great it would be to live on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi. I imagined hopping in a canoe any given summer day and making the journey across the river to the mysterious state I had never visited. But Minnesota isn't much different from Wisconsin, and I doubt a 10 year old paddling solo in a canoe would fare well amongst the barges on the Mississippi. Still, state borders are a way for us to create order and identity in the vast land that is our country, and they help me to cross off geographical accomplishments as we ride: five states down, four to go.
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