I have not been impressed by Ohio’s roads. Haven’t they ever heard of shoulders? Haven’t they ever heard of repairing potholes? Shirley Franklin, a mayoral candidate in Atlanta, ran on the platform that she’d go out and personally fix a pot hole if it was reported and left unrepaired – and she won! She’s no longer the mayor in Atlanta, but I think that she may have a bright political future ahead of her in Ohio if she takes a similar approach.
It rained throughout the morning as I rode along with Kasey, Brandon, and Geena eastward along the southern bank of Lake Erie.
There was one bridge that was slippery in particular and had a tricky expansion joint at an angle that managed to catch Brian’s and Kat’s front wheels, and they both took a tumble on the bridge.
Our first rest stop of the day was near a cute farmer’s market / grocers / bakery and several of the bicyclers pooled their money together to buy boxes of pastries that, when paired with a cup of (free!) coffee the market provided, made for an excellent second breakfast.
Throughout the trip, I’ve kind of been hoping that someone would be waiting along the roadside with signs and pom poms cheering for us. Marathoners get these things, and I’ve been quite jealous. I mean, I don’t want it all day, every day, but I’ve been thinking that it would be nice to have just once throughout this trip. Unbeknownst to me, today would be that day! Brian’s family lives in a suburb of Cleveland, so as we rode into Cleveland today, they came out and waited in lawn chairs alongside the road for us with noisemakers, pom poms, posters. As we biked by, they yelled and cheered like we were great heroes and gave us Gatorade and energy bars. It was glorious and everything I imagined it would be. :o)
Thankfully we went into Cleveland in high spirits because the ride through Cleveland was certainly deflating. It was the first major city we’d cycled through on the trip, and it was less than fun. It seems the Cleveland drivers aren’t that keen on bicyclers because – though no driver has honked / yelled at me on the trip thus far, four separate drivers yelled at me in Cleveland. Somehow, I think that our route through Cleveland did not showcase its finest side. Also, I think that I focused all of my energy on avoiding potholes, not getting run over, and trying to avoid getting hit by the many cars, that I had no brain power left to sort out my directions, so I was perpetually lost in Cleveland.
Many of the riders have demonstrated their excellent powers of persuasion throughout the trip. People will be hand them donations for the American Lung Association right and left. They’ll go out for coffee and come back having not spent a dime. Jessica even managed to flag down the Schwann ice cream truck (that delivers to grocery stores) and convinced the driver to give her ice cream off the truck! I, however, have been a ridiculous failure at talking anyone into anything. I'll smile, tell someone what we’re up to, imply that charity would be appreciated, (and occasionally even throw in a bat of the eyelashes when appropriate), and hope for the best – and then sigh as they roll their eyes and charge me the full amount.
I had more or less given up on ever successfully persuading anyone to do anything, but today I just had to give it a try. The last barrier that stood between me and submitting my UK work visa application is getting my fingerprints taken. Though you’d imagine this could be done at any police station, the UK Border Agency is quite picky and only has a limited number of (very busy) pre-approved centres for this task. The only location within three states that had an open appointment tomorrow (our rest day) was in Buffalo, New York. It was over three hours away by car, which meant that I’d have to rent a car and spend seven hours on my very treasured rest day driving about –- a less than exciting prospect. However, there was an authorized fingerprinting centre right in Cleveland, near where we were staying on our rest day. Unfortunately, they were completely booked. Our route took us right by the building, and it just seemed silly to not stop by and ask if they could squeeze me in.
I worked on my speech all morning. I consulted the best beggars of the group and asked for advice. By the time I cycled by the Federal Building in downtown Cleveland, I felt I was as ready as I was going to be for my biggest begging test yet. I did have the tiny problem that I’d failed to bring a decent lock, and didn’t feel great about leaving my bike locked with my dinky little lock in downtown Cleveland. So I walked into the building with my bike hoping that I’d be able to keep it with me or lean it in the hall while I asked about getting fingerprinted, and saw at once that it was one of those high security types of places with guards, a bag scanner, and metal detectors. I knew straight away that I wouldn’t be going anywhere with my bicycle, but before I could even turn around to take it back outside, a guard was already barking at me that bicycles couldn’t be inside the building. I cringed at the thought of leaving my beloved bicycle (who has been my faithful and constant companion these many hours throughout the summer) unattended with only a wee little lock to protect him from the cold, cruel world of Cleveland (can you tell I didn’t really like it there? :o)); however, I knew that it was a risk I must take. So I locked my bicycle up to some bike racks just outside the building and turned back in.
I must have looked distressed, fearful, and grumpy (and I was all three) because the security guard asked me if I was OK. I told him I was and made my way to the fingerprinting centre. I took Geena’s advice (Geena is one of the more skilled beggars), smiled, made eye contact with the lady at reception, and presented my request. She made some calls and said that they could fit me in if I came just before 8 am tomorrow. I gasped and looked around me. Surely she wasn’t talking to me. Surely I had not just successfully persuaded someone to do something… especially not something like this. The government-y types and all of their rules and rigamarole – I didn’t actually expect them to budge! But it seems to have indeed occurred, and I practically skipped out of the place. On my way out of the building, I thanked the security guard for asking about me and told him my day had just gotten a lot better, and said sorry that I’d been grumpy.
I was hoping that this elation would be enough to propel me through the remainder of my ride through Cleveland, but the second half of my journey through Cleveland was the same as my first half -- miserable! I ran into Eric (despite being a very fast rider, he somehow seems to always manage to end up at the rear of the pack -- I asked him about it, and at least part of the explanation is that he sometimes pulls over on the side of the road for naps (?!)) and we rode the rest of the way together, but talking with someone seemed to be too much for my already addled mind. Any time I talked, I missed a turn / made us lost again. We tried one approach where one of us would talk while the other would be in charge of directions. Seems like it would work, right? It didn’t. In particular, there was one really big hill that we went down, and we realized only when we’d reached the bottom that we had missed a turn at the top of the hill. Before we both started crying at the thought of going all the way back up, I consulted the map on my phone and realized we could get back on course without having to trek back up the massive hill. Phew, major crisis averted. I think we were both so tired, burnt out, and ready for a rest day at that point, laying down on the side of the road and hoping for rescue would have been more preferable than going back up that hill.
At long, long last we made it outside of Cleveland and now all that stood between us and our rest day in Burton, Ohio was 20 miles. The rest of Ohio had been flat, so I assumed that it would be a flat 20 miles. That was a mistake. It was up and down and up and down and up and down again through the rolling hills of eastern Ohio that heralded our approach to the Appalachian mountain range. We weren’t moving along as quickly as we’d hoped, and I started to realize that it didn’t look like I was going to make it to Burton before the rental car store closed. And if I didn’t get the rental car that night, I wouldn’t be able to make it to my (miraculously achieved) 8 am fingerprinting appointment in Cleveland. I called the guy from Enterprise from my bike, and begged – for the second time that day – for him to wait for me. He said “It sounds really windy…” and it opened up the door for me to explain that I was calling from my bike (I may have mentioned that I was biking across America for charity) and was pedalling my hardest to get to him as quickly as possible. It seems that was just the right card to play, because not only did he say he’d stay open a bit late, he said that he would come and pick me up from our campsite!! Man, I am really on a roll with this begging business – I believe I may have a great future in law ahead of me. :o)
Josh from Enterprise was waiting at the campground in Burton when I arrived, and on the journey back to Enterprise, we managed to swap life stories. He was your classic middle American fellow -- young, had taken over the family business, married his high school sweetheart, and they were expecting their first child. He also very kindly gave me his own personal GPS (which normally you have to pay for), and told me to just leave it at the campground when we left to save me having to return it and he’d come and get it later. Greatest customer service experience ever! If you’re ever in Chardon, Ohio and find yourself in need of a rental car, I’d highly recommend the Enterprise there. And ask for Josh.
One of the riders, Brian, invited all of the younger bicyclers to stay over at his family's house nearby. I went back to the campground in my shiny blue Ford Focus to pick up my bags and Eric, who was going to ride over to Brian’s with me.
Prior to receiving Brian’s invitation to stay over, Caitlin and Geena had booked a room in a bed & breakfast nearby (it was our first rest day in a campground, and no one was so keen on the idea of spending a whole day sitting around in the sun). However, they were now trying to get out of the bed & breakfast so they could come over to Brian’s instead. I drove over to the B&B where Caitlin was standing outside looking quite distressed. Geena went inside to try and talk the lady at the B&B into letting them out of that night’s reservation while still keeping the next night’s reservation – a tricky matter indeed. Caitlin looked really upset, and I wasn’t sure what to do – I am a failure at situations where someone is upset and I’m supposed to be comforting. After debating for a moment what to do, I decided to go and talk to her and see if she’s okay. As I walked up, she grabbed me and threw her head on my shoulder. I hugged her back and racked my mind for something appropriately comforting to say. She started to shake and I was quite distressed that the situation was going from bad to worse -- I didn’t know what to do when she was sad, and I certainly didn’t know what to do now that she was crying! But then I heard a snicker and realized that the shaking was due to laughing, not crying. She said “Be still and pretend to comfort me – Geena’s inside telling the lady that I’m having a family emergency that requires us to stay somewhere else tonight, so I have to look really sad.” Thank goodness that I wasn’t facing the inside of the house where the b&b owner couldn’t see me because I just started cracking up and would have completely given away their ruse. I stood there hugging and pretending to comfort Caitlin until Geena came out, with mission accomplished, and we all got in the car and drove away laughing hysterically.
An hour later, we’d arrived in Columbus Heights, Ohio at Brian’s childhood home. His family was so hospitable and amazing! They grilled out and made us an amazing dinner, bought us drinks, let us take showers (with real towels!!) there, blew up air mattresses for us to sleep on, and let us do laundry there. And we got to be in a real house, play with real dogs, and they made a fire in the fire pit in the backyard and we sat around and roasted marshmallows. It was GLORIOUS!
We’d made it through our longest stretch without a break -- 7 days – and the amazing night at the Strahine’s made it all worthwhile.
a bit of bicycling
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