How Do Mad Dogs Ride?
The early morning sun hung over the Green Mountains to our left, while the Adirondacks served as backdrop to Lake Champlain on our right. We breathed clean Vermont air as we raced over verdant hill and dale. Catching up to Mike, I called, "This is cycling!" He concurred.
We were into the first full day of a 370-mile ride from the Canadian border, at Rouse's Point in upstate New York, to Manhattan. The idea had formed in the late stages of a Christmas party last December. Over subsequent months Mike Connelly, Ron Grossberg and I (Ian Giddy) refined the route and other plans in a series of email exchanges. We made sporadic attempts at training for the endeavor. Somewhere along the way the name "Mad Dogs" attached itself to our ride. We settled on the starting point. We moved the destination from Rhinecliff to New York City itself. We switched route from the New York side to the Vermont side of Lake Champlain. (New York's Department of Transportation has designated Bike Route 9 as the way to go, but the route is not always ideal and in certain places poorly marked.) We booked accommodations, reserving the right to cancel if we didn't make it as far as planned.
On Thursday, July 23rd, 1998, Ron rented a car in New York, where we
all live, we put the three bikes on a rack and drove up to Plattsburgh
(see map). Mike
had broken a valve trying to add air to his rear tire, but that was quickly
remedied at the local bike-and-ski shop. We left the car at the airport
and transferred rack and bikes to a taxi that took us to the Post Office
in Rouse's Point, where we mailed the rack back. Then a mile's ride brought
us to the border where the Quebecois official apologized for the tattered
state of the Canadian flag. "The ice storm," he explained.
Now we were off. A gung-ho paceline, one mile each, heading down through
the interconnected islands of northern Lake Champlain, and 37 miles later
we arrived, panting, at the doorstep of Paradise
Bay B&B on Grand Isle having outraced the looming thunderstorm.
We never again saw bad weather, nor that kind of pace. Our gracious host,
Scott Light, offered us beer and valuable suggestions on the next day's
route. As far as possible, he advised, avoid Routes 7 and 22A south from
Burlington. "Take Spear Road." We did, and were grateful.
Friday's ride was long and hard and beautiful. We covered 121 miles,
winding down into Burlington, down Spear Road to North Ferrisburg and Vergennes.
Then a spell on 22A to Addison and across on 17 to the bridge
at Chimney Point and along 22 on the New York side. Several climbs
and fast descents brought us to Whitehall
and Fort Ann and to our destination, a rural
B&B near Hudson Falls. We took a few "shortcuts." As Ron said,
looking at a map, "If the road runs near the water, how hilly can it be?"
We found out the answer. Spear Road, and a conversation with the Lockmaster
at the Champlain Canal Lock
9, were the day’s highlights. The low point came near the end of the
day, on Route 4, where we were nearly decapitated by a mobile home being
transported south from Fort Ann. The stretch from Whitehall to Fort Edward,
despite being designated as part of Bike Route 9, is to be avoided.
Saturday, again up at the crack of dawn, down Route 4 from Fort Edward.
This section follows the west bank of the Hudson and is flat, scenic and
relatively free of busy traffic. Just short of Waterford, Mike took a spill
as we changed paceline leaders, scraping his knee and bruising his hand
and ego. A couple of "Non Aspirin" seemed to help. Then back across the
Hudson to Troy. Disdaining Bike Route 9 through downtown Albany, we continued
down Route 4 east of Rensselaer. A mistake: we paid the price in detours
and hills. Lunch was at Castleton-on-Hudson, on the rolling, pleasant,
little-trafficked 9J. We followed the river down to Stuyvesant, Hudson,
Germantown and finally to Rhinecliff. That's where our weekend house is,
and kids, beer, a swim and grilled shrimp with crisp corn revived
us. We'd ridden 112 miles.
The last day, Rhinecliff to New York, was a long 103 miles; we left at 7am and arrived at 7pm. Several flats, including two just five miles into the day's ride on Route 9. In Wappinger's Falls, Ron suffered a ruined tire that was eventually replaced at Bikeways, fortunately nearby and open on a Sunday. We took 9D through Beacon, stopping for lunch in Cold Spring. Passing Garrison with glimpses of the Hudson Highlands, we re-crossed the river at the Bear Mountain Bridge. Another flat tire, more curses, and some long big hills. Ron's left knee hurt. Bike Route 9 took us on a rambling, obscure detour through shorefront Stony Point and Haverstraw. Finding our way back to the main road, we climbed up to Rockland and soon found ourselves in the familiar territory of Nyack on the Tappan Zee, among more cyclists than we'd seen in the rest of the trip. My chain, squeaking all day, was squirted with some miracle fluid at Bicycle Connection in Piermont while we watched coverage of the finale of a Tour de France stage.
Now up the Palisades ridge on 9W, the last big hill. Then the last stretch: exhilarating! The final twenty miles flew by -- Mike and I felt so strong we were racing one another at 20+mph and joking as each overtook the other in turn.
The sun lighted Manhattan as we sped across the George Washington Bridge
and life felt good.
Ian H. Giddy
(Contact me for tips, and a resource list, if you're thinking of cycling
along part or all of our route.)
