It had been a wonderful day of riding and I was swimming in happy sensations when it came to an abrupt end at the locked door to the USA. I’d ridden across the Peace Bridge from Canada and into Buffalo. It’s a mile long and 170 foot (52m) tall bridge that spans the Niagara River south of the big falls, and it was loaded with stopped and idling semi trucks. The fenced in bike path runs along the roadway guided me past that mess and eventually came to a dead end in at razor wired cage with a locked door and a small sign that read, “PRESS BUTTON FOR IN PECTION.” I gave it a press and nothing happened.

After a short wait I pressed it again and the semi trucks rumble nearby drowned out the feeble and buzzy speaker. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I responded. The voice on the other end that I still couldn’t understand was now clearly annoyed so I just decided to wait. 30 minutes later I buzzed again assuring them I couldn’t hear what they said the first time and the voice was outright angry and yelled something unintelligible back to me. I couldn’t figure out what to do so I sat on the ground inside my little cage wishing I had water and coughing on diesel fumes. Another rider came down 15 minutes later and tried buzzing and got an equally terse response. Were they coming? Are we supposed to just sit here? No clue. Later a 3rd guy got fed up and went back to Canada but after a hour and 45 mins the door finally unlocked. 

Inside the door a man told me riding a bike was a waste of time, covid wasn’t real, and handed back my passport. Free at last from custom’s compound I turned onto a nicely green painted bike lane and a car swerved over and threw trash on me.

The rest of that day had earned itself enough favorable credit that none of this was going to bring me down. In fact I laughed at the assorted empty drink boxes that had just bounced off my back as I remembered the east coast is a battle! I’d left early in the morning after a stay in a questionable hotel. It was one of those roadside ones that people live in. The residents had a gravel parking lot BBQ and partied late. The walls were so thin I could hear them peeing next door. I wasn’t really bothered to be honest. Put some good rides in me and I can sleep through most anything.

I bravely did not allow Mr. Garmin handle navigation for the ride. I knew I was supposed to go towards the rising sun and picked whatever road looked good on the fly. A small road to the left that goes directly into the sun and has a good feel to it– Sure, why not? It worked out amazingly! I had a day of beautiful riding along quiet roads, through green farms with enough tree coverage to provide a little relief from the sun, and rolling hills to keep things from getting boring. The sunrise was great and the light through the forest fire smoke haze was pretty. It was cooler temps in the morning but not too cool once I was warmed up, and as the day warmed up to sweating temperatures the wind from maintaining a nice speed was lovely.

I found a nice little grocery store stocked with senior citizens for lunch. After loading a few watermelons into mobility carts they let me sit down at a picnic table outside for my lunch of guacamole, a peach, a fruit salad and a San Pelligrinio.

I followed the coast of Lake Erie for a while with beautiful sand beaches and holiday goers. First people I had seen riding bikes this whole trip (though they were in swimsuits with towels around their necks). At the public beach I took a break and jumped in the water and it was amazing after a long sweaty day. Lost my credit card in the water.

I rolled into Port Colborne and the lift bridge was up for a long time. In front of the waiting cars there was a kid skateboarding in artistic circles while holding his phone out to play music and smoking a joint. I must have watched almost 30 minutes of him carving around (and him smoking a 2nd joint) in his own world before a massive boat coasted through.

I stumbled upon the Friendship Bike trail that seemed to be going the way I wanted. At first it was filled with lots of nervous horses that I passed very slowly but then the bikes became less furry and twitchy and I saw cyclists from all walks of life. The trail ran almost straight to my destination for 20 odd miles and was a wonderful find. More pretty fields and trees and extremely pleasant riding. Friendly people who said hello as they passed and general happy atmosphere oozed from the aptly named trail.

Then Buffalo loomed up on other side of the water. The big, brick, cement, gritty ol’ city of Buffalo was such a contrast to the soft green Canadian park I was riding through. The Peace Bridge arced over the water ahead and my path took me right to it. Searched around a bit to find the confusing route for pedestrians and was the only person on the bridge not in a car or truck.

After the wait at customs riding through downtown Buffalo was easy. I was arriving at the end of the work day and the place was emptying out as quickly as it could. Everything looked closed and the streets were empty except for the handful of unhoused folks left behind. One man was shouting his F-yous to the world at the top of his lungs in a heartbreakingly out of control tirade. How do I help someone like that? Like everyone else I shamefully put my head down and rode past hoping he wouldn’t latch on to me. Found one pizza place open that played Props rock, did some laundry in the actual laundry machines at my hotel and called it a night.

83 miles (133.6km) for the day with lots of stops and enjoyment along the way. Legs are back to about 85% and I easily kept the pedals moving. My throat has been burning a bit. Wildfire fumes are at low to moderate here but it feels like that kind of thing. Perhaps it’s just diesel fumes.