Don't step on my blue suede shoes, dude!

OK, so you don't catch the allusion to these famous song lyrics (which I have obligingly brought up-to-date by the addition of the word "dude").  And if you don't recognize them, it's only because you were born too damn recently.  I have recognized this sociological trend for some time now and it is quite disturbing.  But I digress.

The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland was much more fun than I had expected it to be.  The visit starts with a showing of a two-part documentary that traces the history of rock and roll from its origins in country and blue grass in combination with African rhythms.  In particular the first documentary is fall-out-of-your-seat hilarious when it uses old television film clips to depict the cultural environment in the early 50s.  The part I liked the best was the chorus line of tap-dancing cardboard cutouts of packs of Camel cigarettes.  Hard to believe, but such was the state of the art in that quaint, naive, good old days of advertising.

Another major part of the exhibit is the series of sound booths that play music which illustrates a certain trend in the development of rock and roll.  A touch-sensitive computer screen shows a graph of multiple influences on a particular  artist's style; by touching a node on the graph, you can listen to the music of different artists and, if you're really good, hear how they contributed.  There are interesting displays (with music, of course) explaining the major locales of musical  creativity, from the Memphis origins, Motown, San Francisco, the wave of British artists, and so on.

There is an entire exhibit of stage costumes.  Personally, I could care less what costumes the artists wore, so I just focused on the music I like and things I wanted to learn.  The worst shock of the day was when I realized I knew all the words and could sing along to songs written in 50s.  Long live the King!

Along Lake Erie in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York

It was raining off and on as I left Cleveland and the skies were very gray.  I had arrived on Friday and was leaving on Sunday.  On Friday, it was pretty frightening to deal with big city traffic.  On Sunday, in the heart of downtown, there couldn't have been more than ten cars driving around.  Downtown was dead.  I rode by the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland to pay my respects, and then took the bike path along the lake.

My next overnight stop was in funky Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio.  It bills itself as Ohio's first lakeside resort, and has a Coney Island feel to it (at least, what I imagine to be Coney Island, never having been there).  Ice cream stands, pizza parlors, gift & trinket shops, and pinball parlors line the streets.  In the very center of town, on the lakeside, there's an amusement park for the kids with a merry-go-round, a Tilt-a-Whirl, and bumper cars.  On the opposite side of the street, there are bingo parlors and bars to amuse the adults.  At night, the six blocks of along the main drag are brightly and gaudily lit.  Its trashy but fun.

I stayed at Pera's Motel, just off the main drag.  It must have been built in the early 40s, and hasn't been upgraded since --- not even the towels and bedspreads.  The lady running the place said she moved to Geneva-on-the-Lake in 1920.  I didn't dare ask how old she was when she moved there, even though I really wanted to.  At the side of the bed was a metal nightstand that reminded me of the type of steel desk we had in the Army.  I was in an "efficiency" unit, and the most interesting thing to me was the 40s refrigerator.  It had a door as thick as a bank vault and looked indestructible.  Maybe it is and that's why it is still there.

Only a tiny piece of Pennsylvania touches Lake Erie, but this smart real estate deal (it wasn't always that way) gave the state ports on both the Atlantic and Lake Erie.  I had the extra time and a magnificently sunny day to ride out on the peninsula at Presque Isle State Park in order to enjoy the views of the bay and lake, the park itself, and the Commodore Perry monument celebrating the defeat of the British on Lake Erie during the War of 1812.

A great gift that the lake provides to the states bordering it is a moderating influence on the climate.  This allows the northernmost parts of Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, to cultivate crops that don't like frost, such as fruit (mostly apples and peaches, from what I saw), and in particular, the most important fruit of all: grapes.  The varietals grown here produce sweet white wines more often than dry ones, and I don't believe I ever saw a local red wine on the menu.

New York: The Empire State

The state of New York, much like the city, cannot be accused of being modest.  At the border crossing, the sign welcomes the newly arrived to its Empire.  It is merely coincidental that New York happens to be a state of the Union as well.

Just outside Lackawanna, New York, can be found the most extensive collection of American bicycles on the planet.  What started as a hobby which outgrew a guy's garage is now the Burgwardt Pedaling History Museum.  It is a fascinating collection of bikes, mostly American, with just enough French and British models to round out the history of this marvelous machine.  A Frenchmen, Count Draisienne, started the first bicycle craze with a model that had neither pedals nor chain, although otherwise it clearly resembled its modern descendent.  By the second half of the 19th century, the "penny farthing" attracted an even greater number of followers by offering the speed of a single big gear driven by a pedal.  Unfortunately, the chain had not yet been invented and the gear ratio was provided by an enormous front wheel with pedals.

When that enormous front wheel would hit a pothole or a rut, a very serious accident was usually the result.  Since the rider was positioned high above the ground, he would fly forward over the front wheel entangling his feet in the handlebars.  Enthusiasts of this new sport banded together as the League of American Wheelers and became the driving force advocating for paved roads in the United States.  If there hadn't been bicyclists, no one would have built drivable roads.

A last but very interesting fact about the history of bicycles: if there hadn't been bicycles, there would not have been automobiles or airplanes either.  Almost every major innovation that was patented for the manufacture of bicycles was incorporated into the first automobile designs and accoutrements: spoked wheels, chains, brakes, headlamps, and drive trains (at the time, they were used on so-called "chainless bicycles").  The Wright Brothers invented the airplane using what they had learned of mechanics in their bicycle shop.  When we drive our Fords, Chevrolets, and Toyotas, we should retain a small about of gratitude, if not reverence, for that guy on the bicycle that we almost ran over.

The Erie Canal

Sometime in elementary school you learn about the Erie Canal.  Between elementary school and adulthood, there is more than enough time to forget everything you learned.  You vaguely remember that the Erie Canal is some waterway that was built a long time ago in the northeast United States.

The Erie Canal is indeed a waterway that was built a long time ago (it opened in 1825) in the northeast United States: New York.  It linked the New York City harbor to Lake Erie.  When it opened, New York City was only the sixth largest city in the United States, and the state of Ohio was where the "western territories" began.  DeWitt Clinton had been proposing to build the canal for years, but everyone thought it was an insane idea, and Congress refused to finance it.  When he was elected governor of New York, he finally had sufficient influence to convince the state of New York to finance construction of what was derisively called "Clinton's Big Ditch".

The Erie Canal turned New York City into the economic powerhouse it is today, and connected other cities that became major centers that are still prominent today: Albany, Utica, Syracuse, Rochester, and Buffalo.  In its earliest years, it gave the farms of upstate New York access not only to the New York City market, but through NYC, the entire world.  New York state apples were exported as far as Africa.

The impact of the Erie Canal doesn't stop there.  It allowed the transport of essential goods from the industrialized east to the "western frontier" of the day.  For the most part, farmers in New England worked poor rocky soil to make a subsistence-level living, and began leaving the northeast in droves for the agricultural bounty from the fertile soil of the Midwest.  Within a few decades, New York state was no longer the agrarian giant it had been, and New York City became home to 70% of the state's population instead.  The movement of goods began to reverse as the agricultural goods and forest products started heading from west to east.

The seemingly endless fields of cornstalks and soybeans that I cycled through for more than a month were a result of the Erie Canal, over three hundred miles in length.  Beginning in Lockport, New York, I was able to cycle for a couple of days along the old Erie Canal.  The towpath that was originally built so that horses and mules could tow the barges along the canal has been transformed into a wonderful multipurpose trail.  I had nothing but gloomy weather, including rain, but at this point, as long as it wasn't a torrent, it was rather pleasant.  The bike path carries very little traffic during the week.  In two days, I only saw four or five joggers close to the towns, and a couple of bicyclists.

There are a lot of charming "canal towns" along the way with impressive 19th century brick structures lining the three or four blocks of their downtowns.  Many of them manage to include the word "port" in their name: Lockport, Gasport, Middleport, Brockport, Spencerport.  It was in Brockport that I was unable to find a place to stay for the first time on my trip: there were no campgrounds, and the motels were filled up with parents delivering their college-age kids to school for the new semester.

The solution turned out to be a little over budget, but delightful.  I cycled to the outskirts of the next town, and stayed at a bed and breakfast in Adam's Basin.  The Adam's Basin Inn is an old hotel that catered to the men who built the Erie Canal in the early 19th century.  The inn has a lovely setting just back from the bank of the canal, and while seated on the veranda, you can call out to the occasional jogger or cyclist passing by.

Special mention should be made of the breakfast part of "bed and breakfast".  We had a "peach soup" to start, followed by coffee cake, followed by "crème brulé French toast."  What a great way to start a day of cycling!  I wish I could live like this every day of the trip.

For pictures of the past week, click away.