Day 55

AUGUST 2 Boonville to Blue Mountain Lake, NY

Dad and I had started to break down our tents by the time the girls woke up. Again, dad wandered over to talk to them with me in tow, and soon we were helping eat their pancake breakfast. Cate mixed up the pancake batter, then while it was in the pan, Sarah shaved pieces of chocolate (from a mass of chocolate chips that had melted then hardened together) into the it and added slices of a tart apricot. The overall effect was quite good: sour, but sweet enough to be tasty without any syrup. We all ate them with our hands as soon as they came out of the pan. When we left, dad promised that if we camped with them again we would make them a cake using the double-boiler method Pat had taught us.

I played a game with myself as we rode, making up characters using names I saw on signs: the name Joslin on a mailbox became Sir Joslin, a young knight who wears glasses and fights with a mace; the town of Woodgate became Gregoire Woodgate, a traveling wizard who collects flowers; Timberlane Road became the Timberlane family, who rule a small barony as part of a larger kingdom. By the end of the day, I had created 15 such characters, all together on a Chaucerian pillgrimage across an imaginary world. Though not my most.... memorable characters, they certainly helped pass the hours of sitting on a bicycle seat.

Just under a mile from Old Forge, where we planned to stop for a second breakfast, dad's tire went flat with a sudden rush of air. As he pulled to the side of the road and began changing the tube, it began to rain. Gritting his teeth in frusteration, he continued the process, finally replacing the tube and jerking his wheel back into place. We started riding again, the rain letting off now that the tire was changed, and were suddenly confronted by more people in one place than we'd seen since Niagara Falls. Apparently Old Forge, as well as most of the Adirondacks, serve as a popular vactaion spot, especially on weekends (it was just our luck that the days we were riding through the Adirondacks were a Saturday and Sunday.) We managed to squeeze our way into a restuarant for breakfast, then left town in a hurry.

The rest of the day passed smoothly; the landscape was some of the best on the entire trip: at times, we felt that we were back in the Skagit River Valley in Western Washington. The weather was damp, but not wet, and the skly remained an exciting swirl of gray clouds. For the first time since Montatna, we were surrounded by more pines and firs than oaks, maples, or birches.