Day 59 - Harriman State Park to Manhattan 55.2 miles

Our idyllic last night of camping was soon shattered to the sound of engines, kids, scooters and shouting. We appeared to be in the busiest campground in the Appalachians. At least we didn't have to worry about the bears. The noise wore on until 2am; We had a particularly noisy 6am porridge breakfast the next morning in retaliation.

A fantastically fast and steep downhill run out of the mountains to the Hudson greeted us first thing. We reached speeds in excess of 40mph again. From there we joined cycle route 9 which runs straight to New York City. Being a Saturday, all of the weekend riders were out in force, with scores of cyclists passing us each hour in both directions. There were more bikes than cars on the road. Several cyclists rode with us, curious about our travels. Their reactions and congratulations brought home the fact that this was our final day, and we had achieved our goal. The rolling hills passed effortlessly beneath us as we were spurred on to the finish. We almost kept up with the racing cyclists on their carbon bikes.

We crossed Washington Bridge at Fort Lee into Washington Heights, and Manhattan. The contrast in scenery, from mountainous national park to urban metropolis was sharp. Once over the bridge from New Jersey we were truly in the City. The roads were quieter than we expected, and cycling was relatively comfortable, although it got busier the further South we rode.

From behind, sirens screeched out, and we ducked off to the side of the road. A police car and small convoy passed, with three runners being escorted through the city along with several support riders. We shouted encouragement, and the girl running in the group replied "Thanks! Ride with us!" The van behind lowered a window and the passenger reaffirmed the invitation. Sensing an opportunity to join something special, we accepted, and took our place behind the runners. The group stopped for a water break and we said our greetings and told our abbreviated stories. They were running 26 miles for the Run For Hope Foundation doing a 9/11 remembrance run to raise money. They were from New Jersey, and ran from there across the same bridge as us, and were aiming for the World Trade Centre. We joined them along the riverfront.

We met a cycle policeman, a number of retired police officers and serving officers some of whom had served during the 9/11 attacks. It was great to ride and join the escort of the three runners. Maria, who initially shouted to us to join, had herself joined the run in Fort Lee! Not being a runner herself, she jumped straight into a marathon! Remembering my first days running, and struggling to maintain a pace for a matter of minutes, I was in awe of her effort and mental strength to push on.

We joined them past the Intrepid aircraft carrier, seeing views of the Statue of Liberty to our right, and the city to our left. Eventually the World Trade Centre came into view ahead, signalling the finishing straight for our team of runners. They finished together, with a crowd of supporters on the corner. A news agency was accompanying them, and took pictures and film of their feat. We said our respective congratulations, shared details and thanked our friends for letting us share in their accomplishment.

Next order of business; lunch. We sampled the street vendor hot dogs, and sat with views over to the Statue of Liberty. Afterwards, we had the small matter of dipping our wheels to complete our trip. Across the iconic Brooklyn Bridge, which had more people on it than I thought possible, we found a surprisingly quiet park with an outstanding view over the river to Manhattan, and a pebble beach to the water. We dipped our rear wheels and phoned home with the good news.

After lingering for a time to savour the moment, we crossed back over the bridge into Manhattan, and aimed for my friend Nathan's apartment. I met Nathan three years ago in Morocco on an excursion into the Sahara, and was surprised to learn he was in the city and offered us a place to stay. Thankfully he only lived on the first floor of his building, which has only one narrow stairwell to haul the bikes up. He presented us a bottle of Moet, which we drank up on the roof of his building while he described the skyline. After catching up and cleaning up he offered to show us around. We went to a Taiwanese dumpling restaurant for dinner, very authentic, then walked across the city along Broadway towards Times Square. He took us up his office building to a high story overlooking Times Square, and with exceptional views over the city to the iconic buildings.

Afterwards the rain was thundering down, so we took the subway back downtown to his area, and sampled the local bars. The "oldest bar in the city" was trying too hard, but the rest had a good atmosphere. A couple too many beers later and the 55 miles caught up on us.

A final reflective post to follow, likely after we return. 3743 miles in 59 days.

Day 58 - Poughkeepsie to Beaver Pond Campground, Harriman State Park 57 miles

Left over Chinese food for breakfast was nice for a change, and a leisurely morning watching television as the memorial service was not until 11 am. We crossed the Hudson for the second time, and I waited in a cafe whilst Jake and Owen went for a haircut. Our bike pump was broken this morning and, after a long search, there was nowhere to buy a replacement nearby. I found a shop 24 miles away, just off route, and that became our first destination after the service.

On route to the service, we watched a local drop an empty can of beer on the side of the pavement. Owen rightfully picked up the can, and handed it back to the man, who seemed a little taken aback.  He held onto it at least until we were out of sight again.

A hundred or so people were in attendance at the service. Local dignitaries made speeches expressing the sentiment of the day; feelings of sorrow, remembrance, hope and rebirth. The local fire service and police were lined up to the rear, in front of their ladders and fire engines, with their colours proudly displayed in front. A high school choir and orchestra performed the national anthem and other nationalistic songs. The ceremony had a contrast of touching words read out in front of two I beams from the World Trade Centre, and commercialised messages about sponsors and politicians in attendance. One speaker read out all names of the sponsors of the memorial and ceremony, including McDonalds, proceeding to point out the McDonalds nearby. I tried to keep focussed on the memorial during this.

We ate lunch at a local pub, and crossed the Hudson for the third time, thankfully without the driving rain of the night before. Along road 9 W South, the hills were relentless all afternoon. As the road became busier later on, we decided to find an alternate route, as the surface was terrible and the shoulder narrow. Cars were particularly inconsiderate today. today's riding seemed as if the road was throwing everything it could at is to stop us the closer we became to New York City; Gravel piles, deep pot holes, road kill, narrow shoulders, heavy truck traffic and steep hills were in abundance. Despite this we seemed to wing it through unscathed, despite a couple of sketchy junctions (why people can turn left on a red light baffles us still, as an articulated lorry bore down on us as we crossed an intersection).

We reached the bike shop, bought the pump, and aimed for West Point Military Academy. The riverside road around a small mountain was steep but scenic, with views over the Hudson valley to our left, over the precipice at the side of the road. Long winding downhills that we have not experienced in some time were a highlight. We reached West Point Military Academy a little too late to tour the grounds at 4:45 pm, and so we took one last look at the grounds before making for the campsite. It was up hill from there, literally.

21 miles of predominant up hill ground on. We ascended a picturesque valley passing ranges and training areas belonging to the academy for an hour or so before joining route 6 into the Appalachians. Another hour up hill, through heavy forest in the Appalachians crossing the Appalachian Trail, brought us to a view point over a lake. We chatted to a couple of ladies at the top who took a photo for us and discussed routes into New York. A fast downhill, passing lakes and valleys to each side, and a final grinding uphill, and we were at our campground. Tired but feeling good for having some topography for a change. A dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, washed down with a can of Fanta, and a camp fire crackling away made us feel right at home. It feels good to be camping for our final night of the trip, finishing as we began; A fitting end to the adventure.

That's a sad thought.

Day 57 - Albany to Poughkeepsie 79.3 miles

We crossed the Hudson this morning, and followed State Cycle Route 9 South along the river. The road were relatively quiet, with the exception of a couple of sections around more urban areas. An overcast sky brought with it cooler temperatures, and intermittent showers. Rolling hills reminded us of our training rides through Devon, although not quite as severe. We stopped for lunch at midday having covered just 30 miles, and there was talk of wat we could do if we didn't make it all the way to Poughkeepsie.

The roads were quicker in the afternoon, and we were set to reach Poughkeepsie by 5:30 pm despite having 47 miles to cover after lunch. On route, we stopped for a "comfort break" on the roadside, and were spotted by a highway patrol officer, who swerved around to meet us. After a short reprimanding for our choice of location, he let us off with a verbal warning. We later saw him speed past us after another car, which he pulled over ahead.

Having no reply from any hosts on town, and a distinct lack of camping facilities nearby, we decided to shelter from the growing storm in a cafe. We called around the local motels and found the cheapest, over the river from the town. Crossing the river was over an old railway bridge, uncovered and exposed to the full force of the wind and rain. Crosswinds forced us sideways, horizontal rain stung our eyes. Two double beds, a hot shower and a Chinese takeaway delivered to our motel room hit the spot.

Tomorrow we will attend a dedication of a new 9/11 memorial in town at 11 am before riding South to West Point Military Academy to tour the grounds. 90 miles to New York.

Day 56 - Fultonville to Albany 66.7 miles

An excellent nights sleep in the cool porch, followed by fresh blueberry pancakes at Michael's Diner, left us feeling good for the day ahead. We have decided to make it to Poughkeepsie for Thursday evening, ready for the Friday morning 9/11 service at the new memorial they are constructing there. We expected to go past Albany to a campground South along the Hudson today.

The morning mist burned off early, and the temperatures steadily rose all morning, reaching 37 Celsius by lunch time. Another morning of roads in the heat left us tired, and we stopped for a smoothie in Schenectady. The heat on leaving the air conditioned Burger King was like walking into an oven. Thankfully we moved onto trails for the rest of the day.

Large piles of leaves interrupted the smooth trail surface, crackling under our wheels. Intermittent rain showers cooled us off temporarily as we passed through industrial works including an atomic energy research facility, with groups of professionals walking along the bike trail to and from the buildings. We also passed a large munitions manufacturing facility.

On the approach to Troy we caught the most incredible scent in the air, wafting across the trail. Close to lunch time, the scent of sweet barbeque was too good to ignore and we immediately turned right, careening down the grass verge towards the restaurant, the Pig Pit BBQ. Inside we were won over by the promise of a colossal pulled pork sandwich and fries with 'slaw. After talking to the staff, they were amazed by what we were doing, and offered us drinks on the house! The service was fantastic and we felt right at home for the brief time we stopped in. They even left us with a goodie bag of extra pulled pork and bread for the road!

We rolled on a further 12 miles down the Hudson to Albany, and decided it was too hot, and we had enough cycling for today. I had an offer from a host that I had previously declined, however they were happy to take us in tonight. We waited until they were free at a riverside bar on a boat, rehydrating with fresh lemonade and enjoying the cool breeze.

The cool breeze became a gusting storm just in time for us to leave, sending chairs tumbling across the deck. We battled a headwind up the steep hill through town as rain started pattering down, increasing in intensity. We were soaked by the time we arrived at our host's home. Shaun is a professor of arts at a local university, and Carrie works at a community bike shop in Troy, Troy Bike Rescue. Shaun let us in, and we washed and ate our leftover pulled pork BBQ sandwiches, washed down with some local New York beers. Shaun was Airborne working as a signaller for four years before doing his studies. The conversation was interesting, and the evening passed quickly.

Owen informs me we have ridden over 3350 miles as of this morning. Tomorrow we aim to reach Poughkeepsie.

Day 55 - Utica to Fultonville 58.8 miles

We awoke to the smell of fresh bagels brought home by Matt first thing in the morning. He brought a large bag bursting with bagels of myriad flavours, sweet and savoury, with different cream cheeses to top them with. We ate our fill, and wrapped the rest up for later. After saying our goodbyes, we were out on the roads all morning, as the canal path stopped.

A long morning and we hit the canal way again close to lunch time. We felt particularly lethargic all morning, as the end of our trip draws near. A stop in Mc Donalds and a cold smoothie brought us back to life, and fueled us until lunch at Fort Plain. Our choice was pizza or pizza, so we chose the former. As we ate, we watched a heavy thunderstorm pass overhead, with the rain crashing down outside, and decided to wait this one out. The rain had the added benefit of washing the thick coating of dust off our bikes.

We secured an offer from Michael, a host in Fultonville, to camp in his garden. We took a leisurely ride along the final 16 miles of canal path
and arrived around 5pm. It was nice to be washed, tent set up and sat on the porch sipping cold lemonade by 6pm. His black Labrador, Shilo, was very friendly. We finished off the rest of the, now soggy, bagels with the help of Micheal's toaster to dry them out. We took the evening easy, watching television, and chatting with Michael. Micheal owns a local diner, Michael's Diner, and we decided that we would avoid the porridge again and treat ourselves to blueberry pancakes in the morning.

Michael kindly let us sleep in his porch area, while we left the tent up to air out (two months of use has left a rather strong odour). We slept beautifully in the cool porch area.

Day 54 - Camillus to Utica 73.2 miles

We enjoyed a breakfast of fruit tarts washed down with fresh lemonade left over the night before by Liz. Back on the canal, the day was hot and dry, and a stream of dust lay in the wake of each bike. Soon we all had a thick, light grey coating. We rode along disused canal way most of the day, the water thick and covered in algae, leaves had fallen on top and dried in the sun. Above us, the autumn colours creep in further each day.

After a long, relaxed break at a pizza hut, we stayed on the canal all afternoon to Rome, with a few short road sections. We stopped at a museum on the canal to ask about accommodation and fill our water. Here we met a family on a picnic who invited us to sit down and share some lemonade and watermelon. We filled our water and were about to leave, when the family came over, formed a circle and asked to pray for us on our journey. A nice sentiment. Then the museum owners came over, and things took a distinct Confederate turn. One, wearing a beater, had confederate tattoos covering his arms, and admitted wit pride that a large confederate flag down the road was his. One man from the family stated "If I had a choice, I would have gone for the South too." We nodded along and left.

On route we encountered an elderly man, in his eighties, who looked a little disoriented. His bike lay against a crash barrier next to him. He asked us to stop and whether we had some aspirin. He had succumbed to the heat and fallen off his bike, and was worried about his heart. This was the first time I used my emergency supply of dispersible aspirin in anger. We also gave him a bottle full of water and some electrolytes, and waited until his friend came to pick him up. He had been through the wars, suffering a concussion with 15 stitches in his head a couple of months prior after a ladder slipped out beneath him.

Finding a place to camp was difficult, as the camping area was closed for construction. We passed Fort Stanwix, a star fort from the war of independence. We had heard that to locks were okay to camp at, and aimed for Lock 20. As we had been taking it easy, it was 6pm at this point, with an hours cycling to go. But we were not too tired, mentally or physically, thanks to the relaxed canal path riding. On route, I received an email and an offer of a place to stay the night in Utica. On route we passed a man who asked if we had come from Buffalo. When I replied "Seattle!" He took a double take, repeated me a couple of times, and proceeded to have the best reaction we have had yet to our venture.

Cameron had just finished touring America and Mexico a week ago, and kindly put us up in the garden. His housemates were very friendly, Antony, a musician, and Matt, who owns a bagel shop nearby and offered us his child's bedroom (the kids were away) and fresh bagels for the morning. No tent tonight! Cameron cooked us a very welcome dinner, and provided a couple can of the local lager to wash it down.

A good nights kip in a bed then, dreaming of fresh bagels and an easy day along the canal in the morning.

Day 53 - Macedon to Camillus 75.6 miles

A poor nights sleep in the hot, humid and somewhat pungent tent didn't set us up well for the days riding. We ate the leftover cookies, fruit and crisps John gave us for breakfast and set off along the canal again. The first stretch of canal was working, with watercraft moving up and down, and plenty of users on the towpaths enjoying Labour Day weekend. The canal joined a river further up, and widened significantly. We rode through archways of trees, leaves starting to turn ochre hues, with drops on either side of the path into canal and ditch.

We stopped in Lyons for a cold drink and a cake from the service station. In contrast to the picturesque canal side towns we have been passing the last few days, this area seemed rougher, with some form of altercation occurring on the corner by the station.

The route joined Cycle Route 5 for the afternoon, along roads over rolling hills. The gradients were gentle enough that it didn't slow us particularly. This section made us realise just how tedious the road sections were compared to the canal, and with the heat approaching 40 Celsius, we were all a bit worn down come lunch time in Port Byron.

After lunch we joined a mixture of paths and road until rejoining the Erie Canal Path, although on an unused section of canal. Deadwood floated in stagnant brackish water. The occasional toad leapt out of the way on the path.

We stopped at a fire station to ask directions to a free camping spot, and were pointed a couple of miles further down the trail. On approaching Camillus we came across a small museum, and went inside to ask again. We were offered by the very friendly, elderly volunteers a place to camp out back, with access to the wash rooms, kitchen and water in the museum overnight. Liz Beebe kindly gave us some soft drinks and set out food for us in the morning. They also recommended the New York State Fair which was ongoing this evening, 6 miles up the road.

It was nice riding our bikes unladen for a change, responsive to turning, acceleration and braking. The fairgrounds were expansive. We entered at gate 9, into a car park that stretched as far as we could see ahead of us. We found the entrance to the Fair, and a State Trooper directing traffic through interpretive dance, keeping himself and the crowds at the ticket office amused.

As we approached the office, a man behind us called us over, and gave us three free tickets to the fair! Today was definitely a lucky day. We wandered the fair grounds, large enough to have their own shuttle bus inside. Large tents housed livestock expositions, tractor shows and other agricultural activities on the outside. Inside, roller coasters, amusement park rides, music and candy floss stalls abounded. We meandered through, taking in the atmosphere. All manner of food was on offer, and drinks tents served wine slushies, beers and ciders at inflated cost to thirsty customers, ourselves included. We ate some fairground food and watched the Monster Truck show from the bottom fence for a while. Later, we stumbled across a ten thousand strong crowd watching the Steve Miller Band perform during a guitar solo.

An iced custard, root beer float and a corn dog later, and we made our way to the exit. I needed a new T-shirt to replace one which has become particularly worn on this trip, so we stopped at a stall for that. The T-shirt designs were all pretty garish and so rather than find the least sore on the eye, we decided to go all out and find the worst ones we could. Stand by, New York.

Cycling back in the dark was uneventful, save for exiting the fair through four solid lanes of traffic at an interstate junction. We bypassed it along a short cheeky section of train line. We haven't done much cycling at night, and so it was refreshing with the cool breeze and different aspect to the scenery, particularly along the canal. We opted to camp inside the museum and have a good nights sleep rather than the tent.

Day 52 - REST DAY Rochester to Macedon 25.9 miles

A cool night meant for a good nights sleep last night in Davids garden. This morning Owen had to do some work for the job placement with the Royal Engineers he is soon to be starting, and so we spent most of the morning making conversation with David and Nancy over a cup of spiced Indian tea with Owen working away on their laptop. While working outside on the bike, I did managed to stand on a wasp, getting an unpleasant shock as it stung the soft arch of my foot, leaving me with cramp for the rest of the day. Cheers wasp!

Owen finished by midday and we set out on the canal towpath once more. We were stopped a number of times by cyclists asking about our travels, and we had our photo taken by one enthusiastic nature photographer who stopped us on a bridge. We caught up with a couple of tourers, Becky and Gary, who were cycling Seattle to Maine. We spoke for a long while, and decided to share lunch at a local canal side restaurant which made a nice change from the usual burger and chips!

Becky was from a military family, with three brothers of Colonel rank, one cousin a Lieutenant General in charge of NATO in Turkey, another Uncle of General rank and a brother who works as navigator for Air Force One. They were a big Republican family, and we debated the merits of socialised healthcare for a while.

We took photos and said our goodbyes. It was 3pm by this stage, and we decided to write today off as a rest/ half day, and set out for the next town and the American Legion, hoping to repeat our success at the Canadian Legion and secure accommodation. Unfortunately it was closed on arrival. I popped into a small bookstore to ask where we could find a drink in town. Before we knew it we were pulled in by John who took us to a small room at the back with a coffee shop out of a kitchenette, a seating area with sofas, and snacks laid out. A couple of elderly locals were there, regulars, who welcomed us in and offered us freedom to snack away. John presented two lagers and an alcoholic root beer free of charge to us. The store was full of character, and interesting books. John was a keen historian, and many interesting historical books caught our eye. Toy soldiers lined the top of the mahogany bookshelves. We spoke of home and our travels, and they asked many questions, and shared opinions and stories of the States. It was an excellent way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

John gathered receipts from a local pizzeria, and had accumulated enough to get us $10 off a meal over the road. He took us over to ensure we got fed. Later he came in as we ate, and had a message from the Mayor, saying we could camp in the local Butterfly Park, by the fire station. We could also use the fire stations showers in the morning should we wish. He also gave us left over cookies, crisps, fruit and bottled water for the morning. He was an exceptionally generous, gentle and kind hearted man.

We set up at the park, put our bottle of wine from the winery in Niagara-On-The-Lake in the stream to cool, and relaxed for the evening. Unfortunately the wine had spoiled somewhat in the heat, as it was supposed to be kept chilled. It was still drinkable, but not as enjoyable as before. Some Dairy Milk washed it down well.

Another day along the canal tomorrow, taking it easy with a target of 50 miles. The stone dust of the canal is giving our grey panniers and bikes a covering of fine white/grey dust, making them resemblant of something from the Rommel's Afrika Korps.

Day 51 - Lockport to Rochester 61.9 miles

We joined the Erie Canal Cycle Way today, which we will follow for 300 miles or so to Albany. The canal is wide, around double the width of the canals we cycled along back home, although there was very little traffic. The path was stone dust, much like the crushed limestone of the Elroy-Sparta Trail back in Wisconsin. With no rush to cover miles, we took it easy, soaking up the scenery and enjoying the freedom from cars.

We stopped early in Middleport for a cup of tea, after a passer by shouted that there was a nice coffee shop in the town. It was the first place in America that made the tea correctly! On leaving the coffee shop we were passed by a Harley-Davidson motorcyclist with a great white beard blown up over his face in such a way that we wondered how he could see!

We rolled on for an hour to Albion for lunch at the Burger King, with locals approaching us all the time of ask about our travels. It was a very friendly town.

A casual ride in the afternoon heat took us to Rochester, with plenty of breaks in the shade as we rode. We met our host for the night on the South side of town, just off the canal. David and Nancy are academics, teaching at various institutions locally and abroad. David teaches photography at the liberal arts college and had lectured in Yale and worked for the International Baccalaureate in Wales and Cyprus. Nancy teaches high school English.

They treated us to a spot on their lawn for camping, with use of the facilities inside their house. Once set up, they drove us to an Indian restaurant, which we have been craving for some weeks now. It was a little taste of home almost, having a curry, rice, naan and beer.

Day 50 - Niagara-On-The-Lake to Lockport via Niagara Falls 43.7 miles

Knees aching, muscles sore, we decided we needed a short day. With Niagara Falls to see, we knew that a touristy day lay ahead of us. We slept in until 8am, although the heat last night meant that none of us were well rested. Karen took us to breakfast, another mountain of pancakes, bacon and eggs, which brought us back into the world. On our return, her mom handed us some snacks of apricots, almonds and chocolate, and we set out.

First of all we had a fifteen mile ride back up the escarpment, which we broke down using excellent route advice form Karen, and a number of good viewing points. We picked up a cycle route into the Falls, passing another tourer going the opposite way. She suggested the boat trip as a must.

On the Canadian side, you can see all of the falls with what are considered the best views. The town is exceptionally touristy, bursting with gift shops and attractions. We took the advice and ignored all of these, instead going for the boat trip to the foot of the falls. The spray rained down heavily on us as we moved into the horseshoe, with water thundering vertically on three sides. It was an exceptional experience.

On returning, we watched an unexpected airshow over the falls, the Snow Birds flying in formation with aircraft, smoke streaming behind them. It felt a fitting finale to our Canadian phase, and we went for lunch before stocking on Dairy Milk and crossing Rainbow Bridge into The Empire State.

We had an offer of a place to stay for the evening in Lockport, so a 20 mile ride lay ahead of us, which was slightly more than we wanted today however it would save us on campsite fees. We rode through more farmland to the town, bought lunch and met Nancy, our host. She works delivering tours of the canal here, and the five famous locks. She kindly offered us maps of the route ahead.

With less than 500 miles to go, we have decided to go easy now, so as not to reach New York City too early. So 50 mile days now, and more stops to enjoy the towns on route. It is strange to think we are in the final state of the trip now.

Day 49 - Turkey Point to Niagara-on-the-Lake 97 miles

As far as rude awakenings go, this morning tops the lot.

"Racoon! There's a racoon in the tent!" Owen exclaimed at 0530. I dozily looked up. The sound of rustling came from our porch area with all of our food.

"Get out! Go! Shoo!" We shouted, alongside a couple of more colourful terms. It paid no attention. I launched a flip flop at it, but it shrugged it off. Owen crawled forwards to scare it off; It looked up.

"Skunk! Skunk in the tent!" And never before has Owen jumped back quicker into the inner, zipping the door shut.

The skunk returned to it's meal of our tortilla chips left over from last nights barbeque. We reassessed the situation. Owen flashed his torch at it; Not bothered. Out of ideas, unwilling to get more physical for fear of having to explain to the Regimental Quartermaster why his tent is now uninhabitable, we accepted our new tent mate and went back to bed. We dozed away, our intruder munching away on tortilla chips in the background.

When we arose again, a black and white fluffy tail was wagging out of Owen's day sack. In mortal fear for the Chamois cream, we thought of alternative ways to scare it off. Jake played the skunk some music, which it didn't like, and it ducked out under the fly. Jake pursued while Owen and I got dressed. Owen was again crawling into to porch area when the skunk slipped back in; Cue shouting, Owen leaping back, zipping the tent and holding our breath. I set my speakers to full and played some heavy metal music, and it panicked and ran. Jake then chased it with a railway sleeper. It didn't return.

The cycling was long and uneventful. We passed a maple tree with the most vivid red leaves I have ever seen. The rest was corn, beans and chilli fields. Workers picked chillies in the heat, scarves around their mouths and faces, and gloves on their hands. It was a hilly morning, but an afternoon of flat, straight roads, one of which was 30 miles long. We later picked up the Welland Canal to Lake Ontario.

Accommodation tonight was supposedly at a winery organised through Mike's friend Michael. We tried a couple of times to call him, but to no avail. Eventually I called Mike and he gave us an address and said he would call Michael too. Great, we thought, all sorted.

We cycled to the winery after dropping down the escarpment a couple of hundred metres to the Lake Ontario shore. We rode through vineyards and orchards of apples and peaches, incredible smells drifted past on the breeze, the air sweet and thick. Wineries were signposted in every direction. At our destination, the establishment was closed, with seemingly no signs of life. Around the back, we found a girl with a friend drinking wine on the back porch. Karen, while a little confused why three Brits had just appeared from around the corner, was welcoming and offered us chairs on the porch while we figured out the accommodation. It all appeared promising, and someone was coming to meet us in an hour and a half.

Karen took us to a winery she works at, doing book keeping, where we were treated to a free tour and tasting. We tasted four wines, a white, red and two "ice wines", learning about the wine making process as we went. As none of us are wine connoisseurs, we learned a great deal. We bought a bottle of ice wine for the road, as it is apparently somewhat rare; The grapes must be pressed while still frozen, creating a thicker, sweeter wine similar to a liqueur. Jake also met a friend of a friend from back in Ross-on-Wye who was working in the winery and led the tour and tasting.

We returned to our back porch and attempted to sort out the accommodation again. After several calls, it seemed we weren't expected, and a call to Mike confirmed that he had texted me saying that we couldn't be accommodated, but texts from locals do not reach me over here. A potentially awkward situation. The woman coming to meet us would have expected us to pay several hundred dollars for the B&B!

Karen came to the rescue, and spoke to her mother, securing us a back garden to sleep in. She also took us out for dinner at a local bar, where we played pool with her and her friend. By he time we returned it was late, we were tired, and we retreated to a hot and humid tent.

Day 48 - Port Stanley to Turkey Point 68 miles

After a few beers and scotch in the evening, we had a lie in until 7am this morning. Bob and Helen insisted on taking us to breakfast at The Buccaneer, where they were married, and we didn't put up a fuss! So a leisurely start today. We were on the road for quarter past ten, with full stomachs and tired legs; Not a combination for fast cycling. A short day then.

The coastal road along the lakeshore was relatively flat, although it had a couple of hills to keep us on our toes. We hit Port Burwell after two hours. On crossing the bridge we spotted something unexpected to our right: a large Diesel Electric Submarine! HMCS (the name escapes me, formerly HMS Onyx under construction), she was set up as a museum, with regular tours. There was no large visitor centre, or establishment, just a portacabin selling tour tickets and the submarine itself. The tour was interesting, although some of the facts were incorrect as Jake later discovered. The submarine was Cold War era. The hull was caved in in some sections from the external water pressure, presumably from diving too deep. The accommodation on board was comparable to HMS Ocean; bunks smaller than 6ft in length, and rarely a ceiling high enough to stand straight in, made all the more impressive with the knowledge that the captain was 6'9"! At the end of the tour, an ex submariner from the HMCS Okanogan was volunteering to answer questions, and told stories of his time in service. It was a real privelage, and totally unexpected.

We stayed in town for lunch before reluctantly moving on. The road became more hilly, dipping down into coastal towns much like riding back home. We made Turkey Point for half past five, and decided to stop for a cool drink and find some wifi in town. Internet access was elusive however. We considered camping on the lake for the evening, but thought we should find internet to check on Warm Showers first. While riding around the town, a couple passed us on their bikes, we smiled and said hello, which got us talking, and they offered us use of their internet at their parent's house. We had a small crowd of family members asking us about our travels, and family friends too! They called a friend who owns a winery which we passed just before dropping down the hill to the town, and secured us a free place to pitch a tent, a shower, and a BBQ dinner with a large group of mountain bikers!

At the bike park, over the road from the winery, we stopped and pitched our tent by an old rusty water tower, and waited for the owners to come back from their ride. One by one, mountain bikers rolled in out of the wood line, and we greeted each other. Dave Pond, the co-owner of the site, set us up with showers and introduced us to the group. A group of around twenty cyclists were out for a final ride with a member of the group who was moving to Vancouver soon. We felt privelaged to share in the festivity. Dave brought us a cooler full of cold lager, and we enjoyed a plentiful supply of sausages from the grill, courtesy of Luke. Jennifer, from back in Turkey Point, even stopped by to check on us. Apparently my "smile was so sweet she had to help us out." We shared stories of our travels, enjoying hearing of their own (mis)adventures! Mike McArthur, the owner of the winery, even used his connections at the Niagra wineries to secure us a place to stay for tomorrow night!

We polished off the farewell cake with the party, said our goodbyes, shared our details, and now we are sat around the campfire with the last of the beers, and the last of the wood, looking at the stars (and writing this blog!)

Edit: HMCS Ojibwa!

Day 47 - Leamington to Port Stanley 110.9 miles

A smooth morning meant we were away from camp on schedule for 0800. Our first port of call was Leamington Town to continue our search for the elusive maps and gas. After an hour of looking around various supermarkets in town, an a coffee at Starbucks to reassess when it was all going wrong, we managed to get everything we needed. An hour delayed, we expected to just make our target for the day, particularly with a long detour as a bridge was out on Route 34.

The roads were quick today. We were going steadily at 15mph all day, with a slight tailwind. A distinct lack of hills, and a good road surface, meant we made 55 miles by lunch. The scenery was similar the whole way, corn fields on both sides, with views over Lake Erie to our right. A cool breeze off the lake was much welcomed.

We stopped in Blenheim for lunch, with wifi, where I called up a few potential hosts ahead of us. No luck, but we did get through to a coffee shop where the woman offered to find us somewhere to stay in Port Stanley, and some advice for spots nearby if she couldn't. With 55 miles to Port Stanley, it was at the edge of what we could cover in the afternoon, assuming the wind and hills stayed friendly.

The going was quicker in the afternoon, and we made Port Stanley by twenty past six. Using the wifi at the coffee shop, which was closed, I checked my emails, but nothing from our host at the shop. We decided a drink at the pub was in order. I was told the Royal Canadian Legion was a good bar to go to, where people had been offered a place to stay by locals before, so we went there. A cold cider went down well.

While asking the bartender about camping in town, and seeing her efforts to contact the owner of a small RV park up the road, a couple at a nearby table unbeknownst to us decided that we would be staying with them tonight. The Army insignia on our jerseys helped. As we left the Legion, they came out behind us and asked us where we were off to. We were struck by the strong Glaswegian accent.

Bob, a widower, and Helen recently married last July. Bob was ex Army, serving with the Scots Borderers in the jungle in Malaya. Before that he was in the merchant navy, serving various liner routes before jumping ship in Canada and hitchhiking across the country. He was caught working at a farm, and spent a short while hopping between different Canadian jails as he was sent home. Helen has a background in nursing. They had a plethora of interesting stories, with Bob reminiscing on his time in the jungle, including a young officer charging through a swamp with his family sword after getting ambushed; His platoon losing all of their rations and supplies when told to bed down near a river in monsoon season; And getting called into his commanding officer's office to be told off for not calling his mother in three months, as she was giving his CO a hard time. They insisted we call home in the morning.

With full bellies after Helen's lasagne, pizza, fruit and toast dinner, and relaxed after a couple of beers and a scotch, we are looking forward to an excellent sleep indoors on their comfortable guest beds.