We are now on the paved section and Utica is just ahead. Making good time. We came to the Utica harbor Lock and had to walk our bikes across. With full panniers, there wasn’t much room to get the bikes through.

We stopped for lunch in Utica at mile 19.80. It looked like rain so we covered everything we could and went in to eat. By the time we came out of the restaurant it was raining.

This is where we got messed up with trying to find Bleeker St. We never saw it. We continued following Genessee St. (because that’s what it looked like on the map) and after almost a mile I told Kathy we had to have made a mistake. We asked someone for directions and we were told to go back two traffic lights and take a right. That’s where we ate lunch!

We were waiting to cross Genessee for the return trip (correcting our mistake) and heard a big dump truck coming up the hill at a pretty good clip. I suddenly made the decision to bolt across the street. As I shoved off, my wet shoe slipped on the wet pedal. Wearing a bright yellow poncho, straddling my bike, I chicken flapped and frog hopped across the street having whacked my right ankle on the pedal and, because everything was so wet, couldn’t get my foot to stay on the pedal. Kathy, startled by my sudden move, followed. She also slipped on the pedal and gouged her left ankle. I think this was the injury that was actually bleeding. The truck driver never slowed down. I’ll bet he still doesn’t believe what he saw flapping and hopping across the road ahead of him. Kathy and I were laughing so hard when we got to the other side at the thought of what we must have looked like.

Wearing these yellow ponchos, if we rode side by side we would have looked like headlights! ☺

When we finally got on what we hoped was the right street, we stopped in an effort to figure out where Main St was. A young man in a car stopped and told us he had overheard us asking for directions and he knew we would not know that Utica had changed the name of Main St. to E. Clark St….right where we were. He told us to keep on going and we’d be OK. The kindness of strangers.

We rode, on-road, in the pouring, torrential rain. Then we were unable to find Dyke Rd. Road signage was worse than lacking. We finally found it (we were standing right on it but couldn’t see the sign). We never did find Old Route 5S. We went north and found Bike Route 5 and took this all the way to Herkimer on the north side of the canal, whereas the path we should have been on was on the south side (unless they moved that, too!).

We had to stop in Herkirmer to ask directions. We picked the right bike shop to do our asking. Those folks could not have been nicer. I tried calling RoseMarie’s daughter, Jennifer, from here to let her know we were getting close and give her time to get to the house and open it up for us. (RoseMarie and Jack were on their way back home from a business trip out of the country and would most likely not get back in time to see us.) Jennifer did not answer her phone. This was not exactly ideal circumstances for buying a bottle of wine. Sorry RoseMarie, we were just too miserable to even think about it.

The guys in the bike shop were a big help with directions and we headed out again. The rain was pouring off my helmet like a waterfall and everything was soaking wet. Thank goodness my panniers were covered. Every time I took my book of maps out or my contact information, they got soaked.

Now it’s getting dark. It is around 6 p.m. and visibility is very bad. We are on Rte 167 heading into Little Falls when, a mile and a half outside of town Kathy has a flat tire. I tell her to keep walking and I will race on ahead to get help. Race is the wrong word. My gears are wet and don’t want to change (I have a sprained thumb at this point trying to change gears); my chain, cassettes, derailleur and everything else connected to propulsion no longer has any lubricant. And I was exhausted.

I found someone on the bridge into Little Falls who directed me to the street I was looking for. When I got to the Fire House I stopped to get in out of the rain. First, call Jennifer. Thank goodness she answered. She said her brother was at the house waiting for us. I asked her to call him (I didn’t have his cell number) and send him out to rescue Kathy. Then I called Kathy to tell her help was on the way. She said, “I’m already on the bridge.” I couldn’t believe she had gotten that far. I told her to stay right there because Jimmy was on his way to get her…and besides, I had the directions to where we were going and she didn’t.

The guys at the firehouse were so kind and sympathetic. When I asked directions to the street where I was going they said, “Oh, just three blocks up.” And they weren’t kidding. Little Falls is build on the side of a mountain and the street I wanted was straight up. Pushing a loaded bike in my state of exhaustion was a test of endurance. I made it and got to RoseMarie’s house just before Kathy got there with Jimmy and Erica.

We had ridden 50.93 miles…the last 30 in a torrential downpour. I felt like the life had been sucked right out of me. I hope you understand why there are few pictures from this day’s ride.

The bikes were left in the side yard covered with a tarp. Our gear was so wet we had to leave everything on the front porch until we could dry it off. Because the contents of my panniers were all in plastic bags, my clothes were in good shape. My handlebar bag and rear pack were a total disaster. My book of maps was a mass of sticky pulp. My mileage logbook was no better. I told Kathy that I would have to get a new book of maps because this one was ruined!

We showered and changed into warm, dry clothes and Kathy put all her clothes into the dryer. Her stuff was soaked. Jimmy gave her plastic bags to use when she repacked. By the time we went to supper it was so late that, even though I was hungry, I was unable to eat very much. I don’t even remember the name of the restaurant. That’s what happens when I ride. It takes my body a while before it will accept food.

When we went to bed I was unable to sleep and sort of skimmed the surface all night.

Until RoseMarie decides she is running a Bed and Breakfast I will not post specific information as to her location.