We bike out of Bushnell’s Basin (the quaint neighborhood of Pittsford in which we lodged), and of course start our day by missing the turn to get back to the trail. Once remedied, we immediately set our minds on breakfast since we didn’t feel like paying for it at the hotel. Luckily, there are a number of trailside shops and restaurants from which to choose. We settle on a nice, sunny cafe with bike racks and outdoor seating.
It’s another day of second-guessing our turns. Marty, at one point, gets ahead of Becca but then accidentally turns onto another trail that heads up to Rochester. He is a man so he never asked for directions. When he calls Becca, she immediately asks, “did you bear left at the fork back there?” And resolves to wait for him at the next bridge. We stick together the rest of the morning, and trust the signage (when we can see it) over the smartphones.
What a perfect place to open one of these stores! Get a taste of Becca’s BPMs in the background.
We stop for second breakfast in the little town of Spencerport. While Marty watches the bikes, Becca proceeds to order what turns out to be the best cycling snack ever: a peanut butter and banana wrap with honey, and a frozen lemonade to drink. We’re running low on snacks, so Marty proceeds to buy everything in the store, including pre-packaged pickles.
Not long after leaving, we encounter a new foe. Continuous headwinds along the flat gravel bike path that hugs the Erie Canal frustrate us for the rest of the day. It is taking twice the effort to ride half as quickly, or at least that’s how it feels. We envy the cyclists going downwind in the other direction. Becca forgets about the BPMs and breaks out the emergency motivational Lizzo tracks. She forges ahead, allowing Marty to draft behind her, while belting out messages of positivity and self-love. The wind sounds in the below video do not do justice to our struggling.
Alas, even Lizzo is no match for the hardships of today. Somewhere along this stretch Marty runs directly over a helpless frog. He hears the crunch of its tiny skull beneath his wheels. He can no longer make fun of Becca for having murdered an innocent chipmunk on our honeymoon ride. Also, the trail-side ice cream place in Albion is inexplicably closed. As an alternative, Marty suggests the electrolyte-filled dill pickles. Becca hates pickles but needs the energy.
At last we reach Medina, our penultimate stop on our way to Buffalo. Tonight’s lodging is a boutique hotel in a 150-year-old downtown building. It started its life as a hotel in 1876, then was converted to a high-end shirt factory before being repurposed as multi-use office space and a cocktail bar (aptly named the Shirt Factory). Our luxurious “micro-loft” hotel room would rent for $5000/month in certain NYC neighborhoods.
Having stayed in many towns like this, we immediately plan our dinner around whatever restaurants are still open. Tonight’s fare is epic mac-and-cheese, spinach stuffed bread, Caesar salad, gas station ice cream, and a bottle of local wine. Since our room has a proper eat-in kitchen, we bring the food back and enjoy it alongside more Rugrats.
We’re gonna need some of that to survive another day in the saddle!