Day 4: Keuka Lake Trip. The home stretch.

Packed up and out of Hoffman campground by 5 am, I am eager to close this out. Just 90 miles to go. The home stretch to Lake Keuka.

Exiting Pine Creek Gorge

The last 40 miles of the Pine Creek Trail come easy, coasting gently uphill. The valley is empty. Birds chirp. Tufts of low-slung fog nestle between the trees. A white-tailed deer bounds onto the paths, and ambles down the trail a bit before leaping into the forest.

At Wellsboro, the path dumps me back onto road. Leaving the gorge for the first time, I can see dark clouds and a heavy rain line ahead on the horizon. Pulling into the Dandy Mart, I decide it’s a good moment to have a coffee, eat some donuts, and decide whether I want to ride through that dark curtain right now or wait it out. I wouldn’t call what I’m doing “bike touring,” but I’m not racing either. I have all day.

Super soaker

Twenty minutes and several powdered donuts later, the rain hasn’t abated but I’m antsy. The road crests the mountains near the New York State line. Hopefully the weather clears up on the other side. My weather app insists it will, but lately we have some trust issues. Time to get soaked.

I don’t have the greatest faith in motorists’ awareness of solo cyclists on a normal day, and I do my best not think about their lowered visibility in this downpour. In times like these, some people turn to prayer. I find that cursing helps.

The detour

A few miles past the state border, the rain abates and I get a backroad reprieve from the highway. Then, I hit my first route snag. Huge orange signs signal in no unclear terms that the bridge is under construction two miles ahead. Traffic is detoured fifteen miles in the wrong direction. I decide to ignore it. Clearly these warnings are meant for cars, I think. I forge ahead, expecting to find perhaps a pedestrian path on one side, or maybe a resurfacing project I can talk my way through. I find neither of those things. Actually, I find nothing. This is a zero bridge, Thelma and Louise cliff situation. The downpour starts again, abruptly, mockingly. In literature they call moments like this a “pathetic fallacy.” I can confirm this is how it feels. I slink back the way I came, and map out a more serviceable detour.

Keuka Lake

Around noon, with the sun breaking through, I turn on the dirt and gravel fire roads of Moss Hollow and Birds Eye State Forests. Apart from a few pothole-heavy sections, they aren’t that technical, nor is the total elevation all that bad. I hit a two mile stretch of steep grades that feels like biking straight up a ski jump in spring, with grades pushing 17-20% in places. Otherwise, it’s a peaceful and fitting end to the journey.

The forest gives way to fields and farms, on a paved backroad that eases me over the last hill.