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.
Your rolling hills passed effortlessly below us as we were spurred onto the finish. We almost kept up while using racing cyclists on their as well as bikes.
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