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after a few weeks of conversation with local dog rescue shelters…

To-do list for upcoming years:

• many many walks and runs
• dog-packing
• skijoring
• bikejoring?
• trips to the emergency room?

Hike=Go  -  Jee=Right  -  Haw=Left  -  Woah=Stop

Four years ago my parents bought bikes (albeit heavy ones), took off that summer, trained, and took on a 5-day fundraiser ride for MCC throughout the Fingerlakes.  They remember the high humidity, heat, and steep hills, but made it through the hundreds of miles.  Proud of them and their accomplishment, it sparked an interest in biking for me.

Years later, I’d built and rebuilt and handful of bikes, undertook a sprint triathlon, and pedaled out a thousand miles cycle-touring.  One weekend this past spring I rode along with pops to Lancaster to sell some old farm equipment and use the money to buy him a new road bike that was lighter, faster, and easier to power up hills — a nice trade for an old sickle-bar mower.

The ride was a treat.  Over sixty riders enjoyed the route, helped each other fix the many flats, and set up and tore down our tent city at each campground in central New York.  The ride was supported, meaning our food and gear was carried alongside in a truck.  Not to mention there was a portable kitchen-in-a-trailer being towed as well to provide satiety.

I’ll remember the views on the ridge coming into Ithaca, my first century ride around Cayuga Lake, teaching my dad to effectively draft and ride in a pack, and the conversations and jokes of many in the group.  Who’s up for joining the next ride in Oregon?

Cycle-touring through the Adirondacks surfaced many opportunities: we grabbed leftover freebies from the past weekend’s Ironman race in Lake Placid, ate numerous cones of ice cream from Stewart’s (some intersections had ice cream stands on all four corners), and Roaring Brook falls provided us a chilling yet refreshing shower of sorts.

We rode a modified ACA cycling route, shortening it to be completable in three days.  An area fond and familiar to us, it was strikingly new to see it by bike.  Who knew that you dropped so far and fast when coming into Keene?  The hill by Owl’s Head recorded my top speed of the summer for the ol’ touring bike — 46 mph.

The highlight, however, was getting back to my favorite swimming hole.  Spread this one word by mouth; it’s unmarked but well worth the search.  When driving, biking, or walking on Route 73 south of Keene Valley, note the only stone bridge still in service.  walk about 300 feet down the road or in the stream bed until you find some large shaped rocks coursing the water over a swim-behind-able falls, a churning pool, then finally to a deep-deep swimming hole beneath a cliff perch 20-feet above.  I tried swimming to the bottom years ago but abandoned when my ears were about to pop.  Eric described the depth best by the deep, low, bass re-verb sound you hear when hitting the water. Go Jump.