We ride north, bypassing downtown Poughkeepsie and make our first crossing over the Hudson River toward New Paltz. After about an hour in the saddle, we stop for second breakfast and to check out Historic Huguenot Street. Becca discovers a family crest with the name “Deyo” on it and sends it to her friend Mike, who has the same last name. Turns out he had the same crest in his family home farther west in NY State growing up. Coincidence? Maybe not!
After our snack break (and Becca doing a 5-minute guided meditation inside an actual wigwam on site!), we hit the saddle again, propelled by the power of new 160-bpm workout remixes that Becca finds us on Apple Music. It’s a lot of road riding but safe and pleasant to bike through. After our longer lunch stop at Kingston Standard Brewing Company (and booking a hotel for the night), the much-feared rain arrives. We have rain jackets and waterproof covers for our saddle bags, but regardless we are quickly rendered soaking. It’s amazing how the forces of nature can change your best-laid travel plans and how, in the moment, it can be difficult to decide whether to wait it out or press on. Nevertheless, we persist.
After a team huddle under a very small New York State DOT awning to assess our options (and use Google maps without our phones getting drowned), we decide to press on, crossing back over the Hudson as planned. This time, there is none of the relaxed pageantry of the morning. Marty follows mere inches behind Becca’s back wheel in first gear as passing traffic sprays cold puddles across the enormous, steel deck of the Kingston-Rhinecliff bridge. Normally, bikes are supposed to ride on-road with the car traffic, but with the visibility being so treacherous, we decided flaunting the “no bikes on the sidewalk” policy was the only choice that guaranteed our safety. We are grateful that a soaked DOT worker on a moped waves us on rather than making us divert into the road. As the storm clears we pass through Bard College, stopping for ice cream in Tivoli to fuel our final stretch.
As we fight off a little more rain and finally roll in to Germantown, Becca exclaims, “we made it!” at the top of her lungs. The evening diners at Central House (where we will be staying for the night) offer their vocal congratulations, and are impressed when they hear we have ridden all the way from Poughkeepsie today. Miraculously, we discover a 24/7 laundromat across the street, and are able to restore our clothes back to a dry state. Wiped out from the travails of the day, we skip a formal dinner at the inn, but lay out a very farm-to-table spread to enjoy while we wait for the dryer to finish: “emergency” apple slices from home, a bottle of farmhouse ale brewed in Kingston, and local cheese and crackers that Becca purchased at Tivoli General.
