Auburn to Chesterton, NY

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Odometer: 34225km

The day started with breakfast at Hunter's Diner. I was one of those classic American Diners and had earned "Best Diner of the Region- Peoples Choice Award." It looks a bit like the fuselage of an airplane and is covered in stainless steel inside and out. They were prefabricated in New Jersey and then shipped to their final location for assembly. Hunter's was put in place in 1953 and has been owned and operated by the family ever since. The place was very clean and everyone was efficiently attended to my two waitresses. They seemed to know most of the clientelle by their first names. My waitress was Rae.

I couldn't help but comment on her name.

"That is a unique name. My sister-in-law's is the same."

"Oh it's unique alright, but it isn't really my name," she said.

"How's that?"

"It's the first letter of each of my three real names. My parents nicknamed me Rae at home and it just stuck, I guess." With that she moved off to tend to some new customers and I never got a chance to talk to her further.

As I walked down the diner to leave, three guys in a booth hailedd me. Their motorcycles were parked out front. They said they saw my Alberta plates and were wondering where I had been and where I was going. Two of them had been all over North America on their motorcycles and figured they had done the equivalent of a coast to coast trip three times over. Their travel humbled me. Nonetheless, rather than dominate the conversation with their adventures, as most motorcyclists I meet seem to do, they probed to find out where I was heading. I told them my general plan, but said I didn't have anything specific in mind. With that opening they proceeded to give me all sorts of ideas for my trip into the Adirondacks, Vermont, and New Hampshire. Their ideas turned out to help me plan a very nice route.

When I mentioned that I wasn't really a history buff when travelling, one of them spoke up.

"I'm kinda the same, but I just come back from South Dakota where I saw the Little Bighorn - you know, where Custer got his. When I saw it I found it hard to believe that a military mind would get into such a place. What an idiot."

I listened to a bit of his tale and then asked, "Do you know what Sittig Bull did after that battle?"

"Yah, he high tailed it up north somewhere."

"That's right. He ended up in the Cyprus Hills in Canada."

"Then he go kicked out again, didn't he?"

"That's right, sort of, but if you want to close the loop on that bit of history, you will find it interesting to read about his time in Canada. You should especially read about how Col. Walsh of the North West Mounted Police handled him." I left it there, hopefully tempting him to read about it sometime. I didn't go into how the Canadian Walsh handled Sitting Bull and his tribe with a few men and a promise of fair treatment. This compared with a large contingent of the American cavalry who got nothing but opposition and violence from Sitting Bull.

There is a difference between the Americans I am meeting in New York to those that I met in North Dakota and Minnesota. In the north, I had a difficult time seeing or hearig differences to Canadians on the prairies. However, in New York, I am seeing and hearing more what I expected on this side of the border. What I am seeing is more diversification of ethnic cultures. What I am hearing is more of the typical eastern American dialect. I haven't heared anybody make partisan comments with respect to one area of the US or the other. I think we tend to make more comments with respect to the differences between, say, central and western Canada than they do, and our comments are not always favourable, are they.

I got back on the toll road and made the high speed trip to Utica where I turned off and headed into the Adirondacks.

The diner didn't have very good coffee, so I was hoping Utica held something better. At first, it looked promising. For anyone interested in old building architecture, Utica is a treasure trove. The architecture is a blend from the 1700s and 1800s English and European concepts, but uniquely American. I've never seen a city that so consistently went about retaining and restoring their old buildings. Photographically, I could spend a couple of days capturing images that appealled to me. As I ogled the vision down the mainstreet of old buildings, I turned to ask passersby where a person could get a nice latte. Almost everyone said "Dunkin' Donuts", but I always countered that with a grimace and questioned further. Some said they had some nice places in town, but they were closed on Sundays so I gave up and set out for Dunkin' Donuts. (They even do the apostrophe thing correct on their sign. Five stars.)

As I turned off my bike and took off my helmet, I was hit with sounds of black gospel music - loud black gospel music. My first thought was that Dunkin' Donuts had pretty strange background muzac, but then I realized it was coming from the church behind me. The "praise the Lord" statements combind with responses shouted over the singing came from the 'House of God', founded by Mother ML Tate and presently presided over by Bishop Fletch, "Chief Bishop and Overseer." I'm not sure who assigned the title 'bishop', but my guess is that it is self administered. Good grief, were they ever singing up an evangelistic storm. My curiosity just about pulled me into the church, but, in the end, I didn't have the courage. Believe me, courage is what I would have needed.

After coffee, I drove down a few more streets and noticed some interesting art galleries, but they were all closed so I headed for the hills, literally. I was determined to find a spot in decent time so I didn't repeat last night's anxious moments.

Finally, some roads for motorcycle riding fun. The country is beautiful. Lots of lakes with people swimming, boating, waterskiing, and fishing. A perfect recreational playground. There is public access to the lakes at the many small towns along the road, but much of the rest of the shoreline is privately owned. I had to be careful not to get too carried away with aggressive motorcycling because, just as in Michigan, there were many cottage access roads leading off the highway. That, combined with blind corners, kept me sane.

The only outcropping of rock that I saw was at the top of a few 'mountain' passes. For the most part, the countryside is covered with trees and undergrowth.

I came across a scenic railroad at Thedara, NY. They were running very well restored cars pulled by a GP9 which was also in great condition. This line used to be part of the NY Central, Buffalo and East, St. Lawrence Division and was part of the line that ran up to Montreal. The engine is owned by the Adirondack and St. Lawrence Railway. The name 'railway' and not 'railroad' shows its Canadian heritage. Sorry train buff friends, no more details here, but you can look it up on the web.

I stopped for the day at a town called Chesterton and set up camp. I know Chesterton is an old town, because there is a gravestone dated 1804 in the old churchyard, sans church.

Odometer at the end of the day: 34622km

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Photos

Utica Architecture-1
How is this for an apartment building?

Train Ride at Thendara, NY
For you folks that don't know, this is what a GP9 looks like. Isn't it exciting?

Adirondacs Lake Scene
This is pretty typical. There are LOTS of people, but I didn't pick them up in this shot.

Comments

[From Georgia]

haha....Bishop Fletcher was in no way self appointed.