Ride the Appalachians.
(Part 2.)

You will remember in part one of my story, I was staying with John and Eric in the Old Mill House in Gardiner on my way to the Hudson River crossing. And you may also remember I was following a route sent to me by Gary, a well travelled cyclist from Halifax, Nova Scotia. When looking at my route map, John and Eric noticed that Gary had marked a crossing to Poughkeepsie over the high level suspension bridge. Following a telephone call to the bridge authorities, I had to re-think my route. I was told that cyclists' are not allowed to cross the Poughkeepsie Bridge, it was too dangerous !!! John then suggested I used the next bridge up-river at Rhinecliff, he had seen cyclists' crossing there.

After thanking the guys for their hospitallity, I set-off for the town of Kingston and the Rhinecliff Bridge. The revised route took me past Dave's house in Highland, then North along the Hudson River road. When I eventually reached the bridge toll-gate, I was told, no permit - no entry. After collecting a form from the office, I had to drop down off the bridge and go back to Kingston, find a bank, show my passport, and have the form signed. This was taking-up a lot of my day, but rules are rules.

Covered Bridge.

After lunch at a Chinese restaurant in town I returned to the New York State Bridge Authority Office with the form Noterised. They gave me a Bicycle Permit with my name and address type written. On the permit was printed ;- The person whose name and address is shown hereon has filed a cyclist waiver of liability with the manager of the Kingston - Rhinecliff Bridge and is hereby extended the privilege of passage by bicycle over the said bridge so long as the waiver shall remain on file and valid. So what was this all about I thought as I cycled across the bridge ?. I soon found-out, there are large teeth-like expansion joints which I found dangerous to cross, and if there was a strong crosswind, I could be blown over the side barrier into the river. What I couldn't understand, if I had crossed from the other side, where there is no toll-gate, how would I get a form or a permit before crossing the bridge ?. Please send all replies to me.

As I came off the bridge I though about the time that had been wasted with all the red tape, but when we realize that fear of litigation plays a big part in todays society, the bridge authorities were only covering there selves. Talking with an Irishman riding a scooter about the bridge permit, he said cyclists' without permits usually ask drivers of pick-up trucks for a lift across the bridge. Also when I asked about a campground, he directed me North to Barrytown, which is only 2 miles up-river. Barrytown is small, a post office and a few houses alongside the river and the rail tracks. I couldn't see anywhere to camp, but I was interested in taking a photograph of the bridge. This is another story of human kindness. I was walking down the lane through Barrytown with my camera in hand, looking for a clearing to take a photo of the Rhinecliff Bridge. But the riverside was full of splendid houses. I asked an elderly lady who was walking her dog if there was a place nearby where I could take a photo of the bridge. Follow me, she said, and I was taken down a driveway to her friends house where I was allowed to walk through the garden to the river to take my picture of the bridge. But the kindness didn't end there, you must realize I was a stranger on a bike. When I asked for directions to a campground the lady of the house told me to walk across the rail tracks to the small post office and ask her husband Gordon, the postmaster if I could sleep at their house tonight. Being late afternoon, Gordon asked me to wait while he locked-up, and yes I was welcome to stay the night in their home. They live in a one bedroom bungalow, but I was welcome to sleep in the lounge with their big dog. While Ann and her friend were preparing our evening meal, Gordon gave me a tour of the area by car to visit the grand houses on the Hudson River, which are, Edgewater in Barrytown and Clermont in Germantown which were built by Robert Livingston (1654 - 1728). He was the founder of the Livingston family in America, was born in Scotland and raised in the Netherlands. He was only twenty when he arrived in Albany NY, where he became active in shipping and fur trading. In 1686 he was given a patent establishing the Manor of Livingston, a grant of 160,000 acres, and became the first lord of the manor that occupied the southern third of present Columbia County of NY.

Clermont was the home of seven generations of Livingstons until 1962, it is now owned by the State, and is a National Historic Landmark. When we returned, we had a meal fit for a king. What an ending to what may have been a bad day. Warm and sunny 75'f with only 40 miles cycled today, but I had managed to cross the river. As you know this cycle tour was in 1991. When my mother died October 14th 1997, Barbara and I had just returned from our "Tandem across America" ride from Vancouver towards my sister Kath's home in Greenville SC. Kath and her husband Allen emigrated to Oklahoma in 1968, then not happy in that area, moved to Greenville to work for a textile manufacturing company.

But now I was cycling through New York State, many miles North of the city of New York where some of my mother's family had emigrated to many years ago. Now let me tell you a little of my childhood which is connected to this part of America. After World War 2, food in Britain was in short supply, we used coupons to get our share of food from the corner shop, large supermarkets hadn't been invented yet in Britain. House and street lighting was from coal gas, not North Sea gas, and the WC (toilet) in my home was in a small brick building at the bottom of the rear yard. The toilet paper was strips of "Liverpool Echo" newspaper hanging on a nail above the wooden toilet seat (was that the start of recycling in Britain ?).

On bath nights, the tin bath was part filled with hot water from the kettle which hung over the coal fire. I think you've got the picture. During those early years of my life, food parcels were sent by sea from New York City, from family members who had emigrated to America about 1911. In the large parcel was tinned hams and fruit, and for us children, toys and American Comics. When I did this tour, I didn't know that some of the family had moved away from the city to Montrose on the Hudson River. If only I had known, I could have thanked them in person, the many parcels made our Christmas a Joy after the war years. If you are reading this in America, I would like to thank you again.

Early breakfast with Ann and Gordon (they made me feel like one of the family), and I was leaving NY state on my way to Great Barrington in Massachusetts (MA) where I hoped to find a campground. It was Saturday, but the road I was on was quiet. If you are following my route, I went via Red Hook, Pine Plains, Millerton, then through a corner of Connecticut (CT) through Salisbury and Canaan to Gt. Barrington in MA. I had my evening meal at Santo's Cafe, North of Sheffield where I was told there wasn't a campground in this area. I rough camped in the quiet stable area of Gt. Barrington Race Course. It was another warm dry day 82'f and I had cycled 56 miles. It was that hot by the stables, I decided not to put the flysheet over the tent, big mistake. Sunday morning, and my clothes and sleeping bag were damp with the overnight mist. Within fifteen minutes I was in town looking for a breakfast bar and washroom to freshen-up.

I soon found a Deli and locked my bike to a drain pipe. Within a short time I was joined by two cyclists', Dan and his girl friend. During breakfast, I was invited to stay with them at a friends house in nearby Lenox. There friend was flying to South Africa and they had offered to stay there overnights while he was away. Dan worked as an instructor in the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Lenox. When I told him I was interested in Therapies to aid Good Health, Dan invited me to visit the center. During my visit, which lasted most of the day, I was asked if I would like to be a resident for a month or two on a Spiritual Lifestyle Training Course. It was an offer I would normally consider, but not this time thank you. Dan had given me instruction to meet him in town at 6pm. He would then direct me to the house where I was to spend the night.

On my way to the house, I stopped-off at Tanglewood, where the Boston Symphony Orchestra Concerts are held. It was in the car park that I met a racing cyclist, and while we were talking about the road race he had just completed, his very fit wife came running towards us, she had run a half marathon. The house was a custom build, high on a hill, but in a wooded area. The huge lounge had a unusual feature, the south facing wall was made of vertical glass tubes, about 12" in diameter, filled with coloured liquid. The liquid would warm during the day, then give off heat during the evening. The house also boasted a spiral staircase going to the bedrooms and bathroom. Dan gave me a choice where to sleep, in the house or camp in the garden ?. It was a dry, warm evening, so it was the garden for me. Another interesting day for me, but only 23 cycle miles If you check your map, Lenox is 120 miles West of Boston, just North of Interstate 90. What I didn't realize when I chose to camp on the lawn, there was a natural spring with a waterfall in the garden close too where I had pitched my tent. The noise of the running water disturbed my sleep, I didn't have much rest that night.

It was 5.30am when I packed away my tent, but when I walked around the house to my bike, I found the bike was not against the wall where I had left it, it had been pulled over by something or someone. A pannier bag had been opened,and the contents taken out. Looking at the tracks, Dan concluded that a hungry Raccoon had managed to open the bag fastenings after pulling the bike over. I hope Mr & Mrs Raccoon enjoyed my breakfast. I have noticed that when alone, or with your partner on a tour, it is very rewarding to make contact with the locals. I have found people generally enjoy talking too and helping cyclist's, even if they sometimes send you the wrong way.

The day which really sticks in my mind ;- I had stayed two nights by Harpers Ferry, taking in the John Brown Story when I realized I could visit Gettysburg and hear their war stories. I had cycled through Frederick on highway #15 following the road sign for Gettysburg when I was stopped by the Highway Patrol. Being a dual carriageway the Police Car had come from behind me, roof lights flashing and siren blasting. Yes, he got my attention, but when I stopped and looked around at him I noticed he was standing by his car with his hands resting on his 45's, yes I was facing two gun Pete. But it wasn't an Interstate Highway that I was cycling on, he wouldn't have any of it, and I took the next right turn.......I didn't get to see Gettysburg. What you need to know when travelling by bicycle in North America ;- when Americans tell you how far away a place is, they don't usually give miles or kilometers, but how many minutes or hours it take to travel by car. I once was stopped by a policeman who asked why I was walking, and another guy who asked why I was cycling across America on a bicycle when I could travel by horse and let the horse do the work.

Leaving Lenox I made for "The Depot" in West Stockbridge where I had breakfast paid for by a tourist from Berlin, Germany. He could speak good English, and I was interested in the German economy since the Berlin Wall had fallen. A few miles later I came to Hancock Shaker Village and as it happened, being a Monday morning, the village was quiet. After paying my admission fee, I bought a guide book and had the grand tour. It was a lovely morning, with lots of interesting old buildings to visit. The circular stone milking parlour was very impressive, as was the design of the Shaker furniture, they would only use the best materials. The Shakers came from the Manchester area of North West England, but they soon become extinct following a vow of celibacy. They would dance and shake their hands in Church when praying to God. It was just as well they had made a vow of celibacy because they lived very close to each other in a large dwelling where a hundred people slept and ate.

Following a large lunch at a Pizza Hut in Pittsfield, I rejoined the Appalachian Trail and being in one of the New England States, Massachusetts, I started seeing familiar town names. Not just town names, but British breeds of cattle such as English Herefordshires and Scottish Highlands. I was heading for a campground at Savoy, when I came across the small town of Cheshire. As I was living in the English County of Cheshire at that time, (for those who don't know England, Wirral where I live now, was in Cheshire before the powers that be decided we should join Merseyside) I managed to find a local man who kindly took a photo of me in front of the town sign, Cheshire was founded in 1793. After passing through Adams I had my first puncture, and it was in the rear tyre, or should I say tire ; American spelling ?. Would you believe I was outside a cafe when the tyre blow. Not only that, but I was helped by Ralph, a cyclist with a pick-up truck who introduced me to the Savoy campground owner of Shady Pines, then he returned later to take me back to the cafe where he bought me food and drink. Ralph had done his afternoon bike ride when I met him, and during our meal, he told me he had taken early retirement because he has M.S., but he found he could manage to ride a bike (I was to get M.S in September 1993. If you read my new story "Tandem across America", you will understand what M.S. is and the causes of MS). The campground was quiet, nearly empty, had a swimming pool and showers, all for the price of $3.00.

The New England countryside reminded me of home during a good summer, lots of greenery, rivers and hills. Only 42 miles today, but a very interesting day with lots of friendly people. Looking at my map the next morning, I noticed that I would be in the cycle friendly State of Vermont very soon. Feeling very relaxed at Shady Pines campground, I decided to take a few photos of my camping equipment and found the camera batteries were low on power. I had spare batteries, I was back in action. Perhaps I can tell those of you who are interested in photography about the equipment I used on this tour ;- Camera - Minolta X300 single lens reflex body with a Minolta MD Zoom Lens 35 - 70 mm. This lens also has a Macro Operation for close-up photography and can be changed with my Minolta MD Zoom Lens 70 - 210 mm., but not the 70 - 210mm on this trip, it's far too heavy. Film ;- Jessop/Agfa 35mm colour for giving slide shows. I also had with me a selection of special effect filters, including ;- Polarizer which stops unwanted reflections from water and glass etc, and can also be used to darken blue skies ; Skylight 1b which improves the photo clarity by eliminating blue haze in the hills or on the beach ; Various Colour Gradient which have a tint across half the glass, used for altering light contrasts, usually for mid-day shots when the sun is high in the sky causing the photo too looked washed-out ; Clear Colour Net which softens the image, ideal for masking the facial lines when taking portraits ; Orange Colour Conversion for adding the golden light of sunrise or sunset to my early or late photography. If you would like more information on creative photography, visit your local specialist shop, or better still, join a camera club and get advice before you buy.

Now heading for Wilmington in Vermont where I hoped to find a campground. After having lunch in South Ashfield I continued passed Parker Hill to Shelburne Falls, an interesting town on the Deerfield River close to the Mohawk Trail. The rain started as I entered the town, but looking at the clouds, it wouldn't be for long. I took shelter in the newspaper office where I was given a town guide. After walking across the internationally known Bridge of Flowers, I returned to the town by crossing the river by the old Iron Bridge. The colour of the pot plants on the Bridge of Flowers was breath taking. I then visited the sites of the old Indian fishing ground, Salmon Falls and the Glacial Potholes which were formed millions of years ago. Close to the Potholes and Falls I found Mole Hollow Candles Limited where I rested for a while. The cented candles were wonderful, and Shirley Rouleau, the marketing director of the company was playing my sort of music ; Danny Wright on piano playing tracks like Clair de Lune, Moon River, I Dreamed a Dream and many more in his latest album Black and White 2. When I bought a copy of the cassette tape, I didn't know then what was instore for me that day !!!.

I was insight of Wilmington when I was stopped by a motorist who suggested I took cover quickly, a violent storm was about to hit town. As I looked for cover, I noticed a middle aged woman waving to me from a house across the road. I ran to her for help, and was taken inside, bike and all. We stood inside the hall together as the storm hit the house, she thought the roof would come off. We watched as the hanging flower baskets were ripped from their chain hooks Camping today was out of the question, but quess what, the house I was standing in was Cape North Tourist Home, owned by Bette Crawford and I was the only guest at that time. Bette had trained as a interior designer and it showed in the decor when I was invited to sleep in Honeymooners Bedroom........OK, what do you think was instore for me that night ?. Read on. Cape North is the sort of place you would stay at when having a nice dream, the sort of place I didn't plan on staying at, not on this three month long vacation.

The storm passed as quickly as it had started, it wasn't a tornado, not this time...... I was hit by a tornado when on vacation in Switzerland in 1970....I was returning home from the Italian Dolomites, when I camped at Lauterbrunnen at the foot of the Jungfrau (4,158m) and the Eiger (3,970m). I was visiting nearby Interlaken, sitting outside a cafe in the sun, eating strawberries and cream, when heavy black clouds came into sight. Not knowing that a tornado was about to hit town, I took shelter from the rain under a large tree in a nearby park. That was untill I saw the trees and roots being ripped from the ground. All I could do was to lay flat on the grass and hope the trees didn't land on me. When it had blown over, I found a woman trapped under a tree, but I couldn't lift it. The fire department were soon on the scene with chain saws to rescue the victims.

When I returned to my tent, it was still standing. Back to Cape North....... When I told Bette that I was on a low budget vacation, she let me stay for two nights dinner, bed and breakfast for $22.00 a night. She put me in the luxury Honeymooners Bedroom on the ground floor at first, then later moved me upstairs when a married couple arrived. The diner/lounge was huge, with a wide wooden staircase in the center of the room. And in the corner of the lounge area was a grand piano, and being a fan of piano music, I asked Bette if she could play for me. No, but a lady friend could play for me. Bette was soon on the telephone asking her friend to join us for dinner. The other guests, who had a car, were going into town for their evening meal. Like I said, this was like a dream, eating chicken, vegetables and jacket potatos with two lady hosts. After dinner we listened to the piano music cassette tape that I had bought in Shelburne Falls only a few hours ago, then when fully relaxed, listened to the wonderful tones of Bette's Grand Piano, sheer luxury.

It was a bit cooler today - only 78'f, and I had cycled 50 miles in the hills. During my rest day at Cape North, I read some of Bette's books on alternative therapies, such as Body Reflexology and the like. When I see books such as these, I know the owners are usually looking for a way forward in their life. The instructors at the Kripalu Center in Lenox tried to help people understand the meaning of DIS-EASE by helping them understand that high material values can cause tension which can lead to disease of the body. I can remember seeing a programme onTV about a medical doctor living in Silica Valley USA who gave his patients a happy- pill and did himself out of a job

. Checking where I was on my Eastern USA road map during my rest day, I could see that Vermont is very mountainous, and my route through to Montpelier, the state capital would be very challenging on a loaded bike weighing in at 85lbs total, that's about 60lbs of equipment. And I would be following scenic highway #100, a popular area for bicyclists visiting or living in the United States. It is that popular that a tour company was formed many years ago, called Vermont Bicycle Touring - The Original. They specialize in Delux Country Inn Bicycling Vacations. They will also provide touring bikes, back-up vans, and group leaders, I cycled with a VBT group for many hours, read on.

Let me tell you about the morning of departure from Cape North Tourist Home. Bette made me feel special, she is a wonderful women and has a beautiful home, and when I was leaving, there were lots of hugs and kisses. Before joining Hwy #100, I detoured to see Lake Harriman, then when in town, called at a barbers shop for a hair cut $9.00. (just in-case I met someone like Bette again on this long trip). When cycling North towards my next stop, Ludlow Youth Hostel, I noticed Bette driving towards me asking me to stop, (surely the new haircut wasn't that good). Bette had been driving around looking for me, I hadn't collected my lunch from her kitchen. Lunch today was taken sitting in the sun outside a Deli in Jamaica. But it wasn't very warm, only 65'f, the 25 m.p.h. north westerly winds had brought with it a change in the weather. To the west of me is the Appalachian Moutains Walking Trail which at this point passed through Green Mountain National Forest for 160 miles. To the east, the Connecticut River which starts it's journey to the Atlantic Ocean in Quebec Province, Canada, and in this area, it is the border between Vermont and New Hampshire.

After many long climbs and very fast decents (48 m.p.h.) I came to Ludlow's Trojan Horse Y.H. in the Black River Valley where I spent the evening resting, watching an English movie, Inspector Morse. I was the only guest staying at this interesting 100 year old carriage barn. Being in a popular winter sky area (cross country ski trails radiate out from Ludlow, it would usually be fully booked. I missed being entertained with piano music today. 67 great miles today. Ludlow, being in a popular area for cycling, has a good bike shop. Rick Trainer, the owner of Mountain Cycology (how is that for the name of a bike shop) is a racing cyclist = 25 miles in 55 minutes, a lot faster than me = 1 hour 50 seconds in a 2 up team time trial, but that was during my 50th year.

On route to my next Y.H. at Rochester, I joined with a group of 15 bicyclists' who were about to finish a week long cycle tour of Vermont ($500 in 1991). They were a mixed bunch, mainly Americans on a V.B.T. tours. When we all stopped at their final Delux Country Inn, I was invited to join them in taking afternoon refreshments. It was then I noticed some of the girls of the group were wearing Polar heart rate monitors. Being a cycle coach back in England, I enquired how they use them. I was shocked when they told me the H.R.M. were only a fashion accessory. Thanking the group for their hospitality, I cycled the short distance to Rochester Y.H. to find it closed. The hostel building is a 165 year old church with it's original stained glass windows and church pews, and being on one of Bikecentennial Routes it would be used frequently. But not today for me or the other bicyclist standing at the door reading the closed sign. Roger was from Boston MA and he was eight days into his three month ride from Boston to Seattle. We had lots to talk about during our evening meal in a nearby restaurant, and when the restaurant owner offered to let us use his large front garden as a campground, the day ended on a good note. Sunny 70'f. slight head wind, 43 enjoyable miles.

During breakfast in the restaurant, Roger asked for advice about his sore knees. The male ego can sometimes make the athlete over enthusiastic which can lead to injuries of this nature. It can also lead to wars with some world leaders, sorry about that, I am going off track, this story is about an enjoyable bicycle ride in America and Canada....... Still going north on hwy #100, I stopped for lunch and talked with another large group of cyclists' at a road side cafe. They were a fit looking group from Montreal, Canada, and after lunch I managed to get a group photograph taken with me included this time.

Montreal Cyclists.

Using my SLR camera is not easy, I have to set it up for the person who press's the shutter release button. It was now Saturday June 15th and I was only 130 miles south of Montreal. But I had to be in Halifax, Nova Scotia by Saturday July 6th for the flight home on Wednesday July 10th. Did I have time to visit Montreal I thought..........no, it wouldn't be wise, I may need that extra time if something unexpected happens.

Emery J. Woodall Jr (Woody) was the next bicyclist I met that afternoon, he was cycling towards me and spotted the British Flags on my bike. He wanted to know more about me, and had turned to ride with me. After taking a photograph of a covered bridge, just like the bridge in Clint Eastwood's film The Bridges of Madison County, we cycled to his Airstream Caravan Home in Warren, where I was invited to have dinner and camp for the night. Only 20 miles today. After breakfast Woody wanted a lot more information on bicycling (I use that term in America as they do, and mudgards, they call fenders) because he was writing a book on the subject. We talked for hours, all about the bike, and benefits that one can get from being a bicyclist. Woody was also a Veteran Cross Country Ski Champion. It was late afternoon when he let me go on my way, he is a great guy but I had planned on being at Montpelier Capital Home Hostel last night.

We had missed lunch, and I was so hungry when I stopped at a deli for a snack. When I telephoned the Home Hostel (only 2 beds) the recorded message said - I am sorry, we are closed for the weekend. The weather was bad, strong winds, heavy rain and no campground listed at the small state capital. After 27 wet, hard miles I found a cafe in Montpelier, (it's only a small town) then found one Motel. But the price was too high $40 for a bed, I didn't want to buy the bed, only use it for one night. I found the Police Station and asked if I could sleep in the cell for the night, no they said, we might need to use it later, and it is an offence to camp in the park. I returned to young April in the cafe, not knowing what to do next. April was an angel, she telephoned Ricky, her partner, and I was invited to stay with them in their flat over the cafe. They knew what it was like to be homeless, they had eloped to be together (I hope they were happy together, they are a great couple). Ricky is a body builder, no, not coach body builder, human body builder, and when I tried to remove the panniers from the bike to make it lighter, he stopped me, and carried the 85lbs up the long flight of stairs to his apartment with no effort.

Ricky started work early at the bagel cafe across the road, and I was invited to join him for breakfast. When I told him I was impressed with his strength, for I was a qualified weight training instructor in England, he took me to the fitness center where he does his training to show me the equipment. At that time - 1991 - most North American Fitness Centers were far better equipped than those in Britain. Also, there was a well equipped bike shop in town, Onion River Sports in Langdon Street, Chris "Biscuit" Bisson and Jack Nash were friends of Woody Junior, the Veteran Champion who was writing a bicycling guide book . If anybody reading this account of my adventure in North America knows of Woody, please contact me by e.mail.

After having lunch with my angel April in the cafe, I said thank you and goodbye, and headed East along Hwy #302. Most of the rain clouds had passed by at this time, but there was lots of mist on the hills. After passing through Barre the rear tyre punctured, and on inspecting the inner tube, another snake bite. Although the tyre pressure was correct (yes, I use a pressure gauge), the uneven road surface had caused the pinch between tyre and wheel rim. But no problem, I was soon back on the road, climbing high through this wooded area of Vermont before dropping at speed to Interstate 91 where I found a truck stop by exit 17. My father Harry was a truck driver all his working life, and I was a truck and bus mechanic for thirty years, so I could feel at home at the truck stop. Truck drivers like their food (what else is there to do when driving hundreds of miles a day ?) and most are overweight, but today I joined them eating a three course dinner. This truck stop had rooms for the night, but I was enjoying sleeping outdoors in my snug sleeping bag.......

I crossed the Connecticut River by Wells River into New Hamshire and found a small basic campground at Swiftwater. Another good day, I had cycled 50 miles in the afternoon. Let me tell you about New Hamshire, New England.............The early colonists settled on the coast leaving the dense forests and mountains to the natives of these parts, the Algonquin Indians. Then ruthless timber companies stripped nearly all Northern New Hampshire bare until they realized the tourist potential of the White Moutains. Ever since becoming the first American State to declare Independence in 1776, New Hamshire has been proud to go its own way. The absence of sales tax and personal income tax is seen as a fulfilment of the state motto, Live Free or Die. Alternative sources of revenue include state owned liquor stores set up after the failure of prohibition......One less ideological aspect of New Hampshire's individualism is the emphasis on a healthy outdoor lifestyle, hiking, climbing, skiing and cycling are enjoyed by locals and visitors from Boston and New York. So that opens the door me, I can hear you saying, because there is nothing I like more than cycling and the benefits that cycling gives to people like me. It gives both strength and stamina, but also for me, a way of releasing tension.......... This is my way of relaxing body and mind.

The village campground was beside a fast flowing river that I listened too most of the night, and in the early morning it was the only place to wash my body. The mountain water was cold but very refreshing, just what a cyclist needs to start the day, and when in the river, I noticed a sign saying NO COMMERCIAL PANNING FOR GOLD IN THIS RIVER, I could have come from Swiftwater a richer man. After a good breakfast in the local food store, I climbed to 1,814 feet to Kinsman Notch on Hwy #112 and passed by Lost River Caves and Gorge. My plan today was too have lunch in North Woodstock, then cycle 8 miles to 2,860 feet over the famous Kancamagus Pass to a campground in Conway. Being very fit and well fed it was an easy ride, but I was thinking what was ahead when I stopped at a viewpoint to photograph the splendid "Presidential Range". It was hear that I talked with young, very attractive Happy V. Nigriny from Philadelphia. She was driving by and spotted my loaded bike, and being a triathlete away from home, had the time to talk and take in the sun. When I told Happy of my plan to cycle to the top of nearby Mount Washington, she was concerned for my safety, for the mountain can claim to have the severest weather in the world. Yes in the world, the winds exceeds hurricane strength on over a hundred days of the year, and in 1934 it reached the highest speed ever recorded anywhere in the world - 231 miles per hour.

When I reached Conway, I had dinner, then found a campground ($9.95) by the Saco River and listened to my radio. It was a good day, quiet roads, fantastic scenery, dry and warm 82'f., I had cycled 60 miles. In the previous paragraph I wrote about relaxing the body and mind. Let me tell you about one of my indicators, my morning rest pulse. Yes, on a cycle tour of this length I could easily make myself ill, so this is what I do to keep in good shape, to be ready for anything. By using my lowest morning rest pulse rate as an indicator - ie, 50 beats per minute (bpm). After a very hard day it may go up to 60 bpm, this is the time to go very easy on myself. When at Cape North Guest Home on the rest day, my morning rest pulse had come down to 50 bpm, and over the last few days had averaged 53 bpm so I thought I would have another rest day at this quiet campground. What I didn't want to do, was to do nothing, my legs would think, OK, it's all over, and shut down. On this rest day I cycled only 33 miles visiting Echo Lake State Park and North Conway Steam Train Center, but on my bike without the heavy rear panniers and camping equipment. This was the big day, was the weather favourable for cycling to the summit of Mount Washington.

When I left the Conway campground at 8am the weather was good, clear blue skies and no strong winds to stop me, but what would it be like at 6,288 feet above sea level ?.............. The plan, Have a light breakfast at North Conway, bicycle the 20 miles to the start of the climb at Pinkham Notch at 2,032 feet. Make the bike as light as possible by storing the heavy equipment in the Toll Booth. Ride the 8 mile long Mount Washington Auto Dirt Road to the summit, and if the skies are clear, photograph the cog railway, the fantastic views of the Vermont Mountains to the West and the Atlantic Ocean to the East. Then slowly, if my brakes hold, cycle down the 12% grades to have lunch at Pinkham Notch..............I arrived at the Toll Booth to be told THE MANAGER DOES NOT ALLOW BICYCLES ON THE AUTO ROAD..........You can imagine how I felt when I locked my bike to the toll booth and took a ride to the top in the modern stage coach ($17). What was the reason for stopping my cycle ride to the summit, I asked ?. There had been many runaway cars with drivers failing to use low gear to brake on their way down the mountain,......I did enjoy my ride to the top, and the photographs I took are great.

After lunch I cycled down through Gorham, then crossed the state border into Maine and found a campground at West Bethel ($12.84). It had been a good day, not the day I had planned, but still a good day......55 miles with high temperatures of 87 degrees fahrenheit This was the time I had too decide to either go by road through New Brunswick to Nova Scotia, which is the longer route, or by ferry to Yarmouth from Bar Harbour in Acadia National Park, which would give me many coastal views. Gary Conrod had given me two choices on his route maps. Decisions, decisions, what shall I do ?. The idea of cycling the coast road of Maine won, but what would the traffic be like in Maine ?. At this point in this long cycle ride, I had recorded 2,500 miles on my cycle computer and it was June 21st., the longest day of the year. As big as the other five New England States combined (Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, New Hampshire) Maine has a low population. The Algonquin Indians called it Land of the Frozen Ground, and if I had cycled through central Maine in Winter, I would have seen the many frozen lakes, but this was mid-summer and I was heading for the cool northerly coast just like many Americans do (remember the snow birds).

With the coast being so popular I wondered about the campgrounds, and there were many, but would I find a place for my small tent ?. You will remember at the beginning of my story that this bicycle route follows the Eastern Backbone of North America from Georgia in the South to Maine in the North. I now leave the White- Appalachian Moutains and cycle East to join the coast road to Bar Harbour. The long Appalachian hiking trail continues North East through Long Fellow Mountains to finish at Mount Katahdin at 5,267 feet above sea level in Baxter State Park. I felt a little sad as I pedalled away from the mountains, but there was still lots to see during the next 500 miles to Halifax in Nova Scotia.

OK, back to the cycling in Maine.........Looking at the list of campgrounds, I headed for a beach side site at Thomas Point by Brunswick. The route would take me through towns large enough to have restaurants where I could gain some of the pounds lost during this long ride. Leaving West Bethel, I cycled to South Paris for lunch, then through Mechanic Falls to Lewiston. The countryside was beautiful, lots of dark green grass on the many golf courses, and many views of the splendid nearby mountains ranges. After crossing the Topsham Bridge I found a roadside dinner, then joined route #24 which took me to the waterside campground at Thomas Point ($12.84) which looks across Casco Bay by Portland. There were lots of space to camp under the Pine Trees, and when I was putting my tent in place, I was visited by a very friendly women who invited me to join her and her husband for supper and breakfast the next morning in their very long camper van (RV). Helen and John were from Newcastle, Ontario which is on Lake Ontario, a few miles North East of Toronto. Why am I telling you this, little Helen was the driver of this bus size camper, for John has health problems and was unable to drive.

After being on quiet roads for hundreds of miles, I was quite nervous cycling on busy roads again. Sunny and warm 85'f. for a long 80 miles today. Breakfast with Helen and John, and we left the campground together, what friendly people...... Route #24 to Old Bath Road, then joined Hwy #1 to stop for lunch at a deli and eat my food by the harbour in Dramadriscota where I sat in the sun to watch the small boats being launched from the public slipway (it brought back memories to when I owned a small sailing / fishing boat).

The next campground was at the very popular Camden Hills State Park ($11), but this site was different, they actually had small pitches for small tents, and there was just enough room for my two man tent. But like many other campgrounds in North America, there was a warning about HUNGRY BEARS, yes bears, those big brown animals with sharp claws and large meat-eating teeth. Campers are warned about the dangers of having food in their tent or by their tent at night when the Bears are about. It is customary to put all food out of reach of the bears by hanging the food container by rope over a high tree branch. Some campgrounds have special sealed metal boxes to keep them out, but not this one.

After pitching my tent, I cycled down into Camden Town for dinner, and it was busy. No joy at the restaurants, but I managed to get two large meat and salad sandwiches from a deli. One for evening when sitting in my tent writing my journal, and one for breakfast to save time going back into Camden Town........No it wasn't a bear that called that night for his dinner, it was a large hungry Raccoon.....I had cycled 67 miles on busy roads, and I was very sleepy. I was about 2am when I heard something scratching at the tent. I found my torch and opened the door flap to see big RACCOON eyes looking at me. Removing the breakfast sandwich from the bag, I tossed the food smelling paper bag to the Raccoon, then ate the sandwich as quick as I could,...... then went back to sleep. A hot shower ($0.25) was needed to get me on the road for Bar Harbour. I still felt tired as I cycled down into the seaside town of Belfast. I was braking hard when I heard a crack from the rear wheel, a spoke had snapped, and as usual, it was on the gear block side.

For the readers who don't know about bike rear wheels ;- the spokes on the side with the derailier gear are tighter than the spokes on the other side of the wheel to give a dish in the wheel to make room for the cluster of toothed sprockets. To change a spoke on the gear side, the gear cluster has to be removed before a new spoke can be fitted from the hub flange to the wheel rim ...........I was carrying spare spokes the correct length, and a gear cluster remover, but I needed an engineer's vice to hold the tool, or a large spanner and it was Sunday. Belfast has a Steam Railway Society and I made enquiries at the old railway station for the use of a vice. No we don't have one, but if you wait for the next train, there may be a vice inside the Caboose. But there wasn't. I pushed the heavy bike back up the hill and started asking for a car workshop, but no, it was Sunday. Then I was told there is a bike shop in Searsport, only a few miles up the road, but they are closed on a Sunday !!!. I took a chance and cycled towards the shop, I looked like a member of the WOBBLEY WHEELERS CLUB. But I was in luck, there was a Sunday market at Searsport, and across the road from the busy market was the bike shop, and it was open. Doug Birgfeld's Bicycle Shop soon had the new spoke fitted, and during my visit to the shop, Doug Birgfeld the third told me of his other interests in life - Poetry and Singing in a Group...........thank you Doug, what would I have done without you ?.

After crossing the high level road bridge over the Penoboscot River by Bucksport, I continued for a few miles to East Orland where I found Balsam Cove campground on "Toddy Pond", a 10 miles long freshwater lake. It was mid-afternoon when my host's daughter went to the shops for food for my dinner. The night of the Raccoon had made me tired. Balsam Cove was just the ticket for a tired cyclist, and sitting at the lake-side I managed to write a few post cards before falling asleep in the sun......... Partly cloudy, only 72'fahrenheit - 45 miles.

Following a good nights rest (morning rest pulse 50 beats per minute), I showered, had a light breakfast, packed tent etc away and cycled towards Bar Harbour. The coast of Maine has many inlets and I had only seen a few of them. I don't know how, but my guide book records Maine as having a coastline of 3,000 miles, how would that be measured ?, please check your map to see what I mean by this. I was about to cross a bridge when four very fit looking lady cyclist's came towards me. They were returning home to Virginia from Acadia National Park, and told me of good a campground on Mount Desert Island that they had used last night. When I told them where I had come from, they commented on my clean appearance, perhaps the other male cyclists they had seen weren't clean shaven. To avoid the heavy traffic to this popular place, I used the quieter route south down hwy #230. On entering the Park I called at the Tourist Information Office to find the sailing dates/times of the ferry to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.

It was now Monday June 24th., and the next ferry was on June 26th at 8.30am., that would give me time to cycle around this wonderful island. The campground the four girl cyclists' recommended at Someville ($16.05) was different, it was on a rocky hillside under pine trees. Each tent pitch, was on a wooden deck, and when booking-in, I was given a hammer and a bag of nails for attaching the tents guy lines too. Another sunny relaxing day, 72'f. and only 40 miles.

The site had a food store, but as usual in popular areas, the prices were high. After a hot shower and another light breakfast I set off on a lighter bike to explore the island. Checking on the map, there are many routes that I could have taken, I decided to cycle the five miles to the top of Cadillac Mountain and take-in the many views, as I neared the summit I thought I could hear Scottish Bagpipes. At 1,530 feet above sea level, there were Bagpipes, being played by a guy in a Tarten Kilt.

Cadillac Mountain Top

After all, we were looking out to New Scotland - Nova Scotia. That brought back memories ;- When flying over this area from Amsterdam back on 15th April, I was allowed to go forward on the aircraft, the area reserved for crew, and I looked out over this land, which at that time was under many inches of snow. But not today, it was glorious, with quiet one-way tracks through Acadia National Park, and to top it all, I had Tea on the Lawn at Jorden Pond House, wonderful. Sunny 78'f., and 43 safe miles.

Rise at 5am, another light breakfast, then bags and bike packed and I was on my way for another adventure, to the bicycle friendly land called Nova Scotia. The plan ;- from Yarmouth, cycle the Southern Lighthouse Route to Halifax, stopping to visit the many interesting fishing communities and museums. Stay in Liverpool and present to the Town Mayor the letter of Greetings from Liverpool, England, and visit the Liverpool Museum's curator,Gary Hartlen and talk about their history. Then continue to Halifax and meet with Gary Conrod and the Velo club members before returning home to England.

I arrived at Bar Harbour at 7.25am and boarded the Bluenose Car Ferry (Fare for Adult $28. Bicycle $6.25 plus tax = $37.25). The quiet 100 mile crossing took 6 hours to Yarmouth. Through passport control, changed American dollars to Canadian dollars, then found the Mid-town Motel. Next to the Motel was a Chinese Restaurant which opened for breakfast, so all was well. And there was a fitness club where I could work-out to keep my upper body in good shape. The morning brought rain, but my bike and I were in a cosy, dry motel room. The rain clouds had cleared by the time I had finished breakfast in the Chinese Restaurant.

On a sunny Nova Scotian morning I visited the harbour again to photograph the Bluenose when I realized I was now in the Canadian Atlantic Time Zone +1 hour. I was now only 4 hours before UK time. Before hitting the road, I cycled slowly around Yarmouth looking at the many interesting grand old houses. My guide brochure told me to LOOK UP at the roof level features of these most interesting buildings. It was hear in Yarmouth that I was told about Widow's Walks. Widow's walks, a legacy of the days of wooden ships and iron men..........Legend has it that on a dark and foggy night, if you stand on a widow's walk you can see the phantom ships or ghosts of fishermen and sailors lost at sea..........But if you don't believe in legend, the widow's walks found in Yarmouth and several other old fishing towns in Nova Scotia still prove fascinating for their architecture.........An enclosed staircase that protrudes from a rooftop and is railed at the top, the widow's walk dates back to the 1800's...........Sometimes called the captain's look-out, widow's walks could be used by the wives of sea captains to scan the coastline in anticipation of arriving ships...........During the age of sail, many sea captains and their crews would travel the globe, carrying freight to and from Liverpool, England...........Voyages could last three or four months, making the wives of captains and sailors tempory widows........During this period, many boats were lost at sea to storms.

Back now to cycling in Nova Scotia, forget about the ghost ships and think about me enjoying riding on quite roads, away from all the speeding traffic that we have in Britain......Using highways #3 and #103 I first visited Canada's Oldest (1805) Courthouse and Goal (jail) in Tusket Village, and I seem to remember seeing a small lighthouse in one of the side streets. It was good to get away from the heat (90'f) and inspect the interior of the courthouse (I will come back to this soon). After passing through many small villages I eventually came to Shelburne, Canada's Picturesque Harbourside Town. It was here that Prince Charles and Lady Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales officially opened J. C. Williams Dory Shop in 1983. And it was hear that I found a small State (or should I say Province) owned campground opposite the town on the waterfront. It was at that time (June 27th 1991) very basic, toilets but no wash basins, I washed in the sea. I could give lots of details of Shelburne County and help you go on a Genealogical Tour but I would rather you visit Nova Scotia and see the delights that it can offer.

To whet your appetite, this small town was settled by the UNITED EMPIRE LOYALISTS from the UNITED STATES in 1783. It became the 4th largest community in North America with an excess or 16,000 people. Before that there were MICMAC INDIANS, NORWEGIANS, ACADIANS and many, many more of what may be your ancestors from all over Britain, Europe and other parts of the globe. Are you wondering like I was about the small jail in Tusket, with the 16,000+ people in the area, there may have been a large police force ?. Perhaps Shelburne has a history society ?. There was something about this coastline that I have yet to put my finger on, perhaps some day soon, it will come to me. 67 warm - flat - miles today, but a puncture in the front tyre. For those peole who would like to read about warm hearted Liverpool people, read on and enjoy..........

Nova Scotia is 360 miles long (that includes Cape Breton Island) and 105 miles wide at the widest point. They are not road miles, but air miles.........Liverpool is only about 112 miles from Yarmouth if you use the scenic route, less if you use the new roads. This was the day (Friday) I planned on arriving at Liverpool, but I was in for a big surprise.........But first let me tell you about my morning in Shelburne. I awoke very early feeling excited, for today was my big day, the day I hoped to present to the Lord Mayor of Liverpool the letter of greetings from our Liverpool Lord Mayor, Councillor Dorothy May Gavin. Ron Hunt of the Birkenhead Northend Cycling Club had been one step ahead of me when I told him of my intended visit to Liverpool, Nova Scotia. Ron had lived in Toronto, Canada for many years and knew the area very well. He was the guy who visited the Town Hall and suggested the greetings letter from our Lord Mayor.

It was raining as I packed away my tent, but following a good breakfast at Claudia's Diner, the clouds cleared and the sun warmed the air, not only that, but the wind would be blowing me the 46 miles to Liverpool. After taking in Shelburne's Museum's, Ross-Thomson House and the Dory Shop, I cycled through Summerville - Hunts Point (I wondered if they named this point after Ron, my friend) to arrive at the Liverpool town sign just as Karen, a cyclist from Ontario was leaving the town. She had also contacted Halifax Velo Club and knew of Gary Conrod. Karen helped by taking a photo of me standing by the Liverpool sign for all to see when I returned home to England. Now this was the strange part, the big surprise I wrote about earlier. As I entered Liverpool's Main Street I could see lots people walking in the streets, flags flying from the roof tops, music playing, what was going on, I though as I wheeled my bike through the crowds ?.

Many extraordinary events took place during the next five or so days. Phillip Mulle from nearby Milton was my guide today, he asked if he could help, and when he realized that I was hoping to see the Town's Mayor and present him with a letter of greetings from the citizens of the City of Liverpool in England, Phillip walked with me to the splendid Town Hall to meet the Mayor. I was told by his secretary Andy Anstett that this weekend was special, it is Canada's 124th birthday, and the Mayor would be with family, but he would let him know I was in town and he would be in touch with me soon. Phil then took me to the newspaper office where I was interviewed by the press reporter of the Advance. It was late afternoon when I asked Phil to join me for dinner at Wong's Chinese Restaurant in Market Street. Looking through the Hostelling North America handbook, there was a Liverpool hostel listed, but where was it. My guide soon tracked it down, it was on Main Street, the enterance at rear of Trinity Church Parish Hall, but was it open ?. Checking in the handbook, it was closed from September 1990 to July 1991, was I too early, no, the hostel would be open tonight, but it needed cleaning out...... Liverpool Hostel ($15 CDN for 3 nights) has 15 beds, a kitchen, toilets, wash/shower rooms and cycle storage, all I needed.

Once I was settled in, my guide bid me goodnight and went home to Milton....Phil, if you are reading this story, thank you again for all your help. Saturday June 29th., and my rest pulse was high, 60 bpm., and I felt sick, but what was wrong ?. After a light breakfast, I had to run to the toilet many times. The cause could have been many reasons, the food or the excitement, or lack of air in the building. The hostel had just opened for the summer season and the windows were screwed shut, no ventilation at all..........and there was an electric storm during the night. I coundn't go far from the toilet that day, but I did have two visitors. The first was Arthur McVeigh, a local man interested in the history of the town and I was hoping he would know who named the town Liverpool. Mayor Ron Lane called to see me during that evening and asked me to meet him at Centennial Park about 1pm on Sunday for the Birthday Celebrations. A fly screen door was fitted to the hostel enterance, that should help the room ventilation, but the windows are still screwed closed.

Sunday morning, and my rest pulse had come down to 56 bpm, still too high. Most of the diarrhoea had stopped with the help of the 'Arret' capsules that I had taken. I was feeling a lot better when I pitched my tent in the rear yard to dry out, it was packed away wet at Shelburne. I walked the short distance from the hostel to the park to meet with the Mayor, Centennial Park was crowded with families sitting on the grass in the sun by the waterfront. Ron had told me that he would introduce me to the people of the town today (were my knees knocking) and tell them of my long bicycle ride to their town to deliver a letter of greetings from the Mayor of their sister city. He climbed up onto the stage, yes a stage had been built for this occasion, the cutting of Canada's Birthday Cake, and I was invited to cut it with the Mayor after he had read the letter......Dear Mayor, It gives me great pleasure to send greetings from the citizens of the City of Liverpool to our sister City of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, on the occasion of a visit by Mr. Alan Parker. I know that Mr. Parker will be cycling over 2,000 miles, and I feel sure that he will receive a warm welcome from you, and I am also sure that he will be able to give his legs a well earned rest. One of the pleasant parts about my job is being able to write to my colleagues in different parts of the world, and I hope very much that our friendship will continue for many years to come. May I take this opportunity of sending you my personal good wishes, and I hope that your term as Mayor of Liverpool proves a very happy and successful one . Yours sincerely, Dorothy Gavin, Lord Mayor.

Far left, Liverpool Town Hall Nova Scotia.

Ron,the Mayor then intoduced me to the people and stepped down from the stage, now it was my turn, I told the town folk of my 3,000 mile bicycle adventure (I put my knees together to stop them from knocking), then helped Ron to cut the birthday cake. Then I was taken to the Town Hall to sign the guest book, shown the Chambers (no, not that one, the tablets were still working) and the Mace, and at the rear of the hall, the Astor Theatre managed by John Bird.

The remainder of Sunday was taken up visiting Queens County Museum and Simeon Perkins House, the Lady of the House was dressed in a wonderful very decorative costume. Later that evening I met Mayor Ron Lane again, and was invited to be his guest at Lane's Privateer Inn. There is a lot of history connected to the Privateer Inn. This was the home of the famous Sea Captain, Joseph Barss Junior who moved to Liverpool in 1761. Between 1793 and 1801 Capt. Barss Jr took command of a Liverpool Privateer Schooner "Liverpool Packet". With-in the next year he made her famous and himself rich capturing 33 American vessels. If you want to know more, you will have to come to Liverpool's museum. What a day I'd had, but what about tomorrow ?.

Monday morning, and my stomach felt a lot better as I took myself over to meet Mr & Mrs Speed, an English couple from Chester and Preston. William, Marjorie and son Alexander invited me to have lunch with them in their wonderful home. They have an arts and crafts business in Liverpool at 88, Bristol Avenue, and William also worked at Liverpool's Bowaters Paper Mill. I was to learn later that William's parents live by my parents in Norton, Runcorn, Cheshire. The weather was wonderful as I said thank you and goodby to the Speed family for I wanted to see some of the area before riding off to Halifax . On a sunny afternoon I managed to visit a quiet beach called Beach Meadows and at the mouth of the Mersey River, the Western Head Lighthouse and the site of the old Liverpool Fort. This was my final day at the Hostel, I moved my equipment to Lane's Privateer Inn, where I met Ron's wife Carol and daughter Susan. Cycled 24 local miles.

Tuesday, and my final day in Liverpool, and for the locals, back to work after Canada's 124th birthday celebrations. Before leaving Liverpool for Halifax, I wanted to contact Gary Hartlen, the Curator of Queens County Museum. I had written to Gary, telling him of my intended visit to Liverpool, and my interest in their history. Gary had been planning to introduce me to all his business friends in town, some had met with me in the park when cutting the birthday cake, some had read of my visit in the newspaper, but there was many more people to meet.....tour of Liverpool office's........Able Cable TV.......The Co-operators Insurance......Memory Lane Photographer......and Wolfgang Ziemer, manager of Liverpool's Employment and Immigration Office who asked me to stay at his home on route to Halifax. During morning coffee in Wong's Restaurant, Gary asked me to be guest speaker at today's Kiwanas International Club Meeting. The speaker would tell the members of the Ride the Appalachians Story after lunch in the Privateer Inn, then answer lots of questions about bicycle touring. Having a good memory for facts, I found it very rewarding to share my experiences with these wonderful people, I was having a great time in Liverpool........thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Before I left, I was asked by one of the Kiwanians if I would like to fly with him in his small plane over Nova Scotia ?. He would contact me if the the weather conditions were right, sadly the winds high-up were too strong, no flight today. It was 5.30 pm when I said thank you and good-by to all in Liverpool, and I was feeling sad to leave all those nice Liverpool people. After cycling 22 miles I arrived at Wolfgang Zimmers home and met his Brenda and children Katie and Carle. Wolfgang invited me to stay with them for two nights and wind down a bit. Wednesday and my rest pulse was down to 52 bpm again, I was on a high as I cycled through Hebbs Cross, Petite Riviere, Crescent Beach, La Have Ferry, Rose Bay to have lunch at Big Reds in Lunenburg. I then visited Merrill and Al Heubach at their Lunenburg Bicycle Barn on the road to Blue Rocks. Merrill and Al were from New Jersey and were friends of Mike, the manager of Layton Hostel where i stayed many weeks ago, the hostel that didn't have any food for me.

The evening at Wolfgang's was interesting, he and his neighbour Doug were members of South Shore Bikers Association, and I was taken by car to see there club's meeting hut in the woods. Sunny warm 72'f. Cycled 37 miles. Thursday, late breakfast with Ziemer family, then on my way towards Halifax on route #325 through Bridgewater to Mahone Bay where I stopped to photograph three church's, all in a line along the bay road, what a sight. Then I came to Chester were I stopped for lunch in a small cafe. I was just finishing lunch when Esther walked in, she had come to order a Pizza to go, and would like me to stay the night in her home in Blandford. Looking at the map, that would mean a slight detour, but no problem.

We arranged to meet at the end of her driveway at a certain time and she would ask her husband Bob if they could have a guest for one night. After our evening meal, Esther took me by car to see the local bay, then we met husband Bob at their friends house in Hubbards.... Now this is a spooky tale...Their friend James asked me where I was born, Liverpool, England, I said. Then he told me about when he had regressed when in a trance, back to his previous life as Fred when he was a sailor in the port of Liverpool in England. He was having a drink in a dock road pub when a fight started and he was stabbed in the back and died September 1938. James then started to tell me what the pub looked like in side, hoping that I could trace the history of the murder of Fred when I returned home to England. Liverpool has a seven mile long dock road with many pubs that were built to cater for the sailors and dock workers........sorry James.....but if you are reading this story, you may be lucky by contacting www.bbc.co.uk/liverpool/localhistory try it, someone may remember the fight. Friday, and I should be in Halifax very soon.

Esther gave me breakfast and lots of sandwiches for my lunch, what kind people. Bob, her husband had left for work very early, he worked as a carpenter building houses and had many miles to travel to the building sight. The scenery and weather was good as I cycled to my final destination, Halifax. As I entered Halifax, I noticed a bike shop and went in to ask for directions to the Hostel. And would you believe, Gary Conrod was passing the shop and spotted my bike outside (my name is painted across the frame). I was invited to stay at his home until my departure on Wednesday July 10th. I had a wonderful time in Halifax. Walton and Corrie Watt invited me to join them at 7am each morning working-out at the YMCA club (I was born in Walton Hospital, Liverpool, and I now live in Corrie Drive) and at their house for dinner each evening. Gary and the Watts family invited me to join them on a 42 mile Sunday club ride from Bridgewater when I cycled with 30 members to La Have Ferry and eat all the food in the bakery, yes they closed for the day with no cakes left for any other customers, must be all that fresh sea air giving the 30 cyclists' a big appetite.

I was invited to the annual party at a members house in Dartmouth, a great Saturday evening talking about cycling. Corrie and Walton, you made me happy during my stay in Halifax, and Gary, the help you gave me was extraordinary, you certainly know what bicycle touring is all about. I feel proud to know you, and if I can help across the pond, please ask, you have my e-mail address.

I hope you have enjoyed reading of my 3,073 miles of bicycle adventure stories. I have enjoyed writing about them, and sharing with you the many good times with the people of North America. Thank you. This tour as you know was in 1991...... I met Barbara Dawson, my partner in September of 1992. We bought a Dawes Super Galaxy Tandem Bicycle in 1996 and trained for twelve months for our "Tandem Across America" which can be read on this website.


Copyright Alan Parker 2004. This content is intellectual property. No part may be reproduced without permission by the author.

Alan can be contacted using the following E.Mail address: theparkerfamily@NOSPAMonetel.com
This address must be typed and the word NOSPAM deleted for the E.Mail to be sent.

Alan cycled with the following cycle clubs whilst on his tour. Here are their websites:

Atlanta Southern Bicycle League.

The Greenville Spinners.

The Halifax Velo Club.