"Coastal Trail", My Ass!

Day 6

The neighborhood that the cottage is in sits on a really great road that runs along the lake. I've never really been on it beyond Vermilion, and after studying the maps, it looks as though this lake road goes all the way through Cleveland and to the border of PA. The signs along the route even call it “The Coastal Trail”. Doesn't that sound nice?

We were on the road by 9 am, ready for the beautiful drive in the cool Ohio morning air. We ride through Vermilion, which is a darn cute little town. We see a sailing school gathering around their boats before they are launched. Another motorcyclist drives by a wishes us a great day. People are strolling around the little downtown. it's Norman Rockwell land.

Then, the drive begins to feels lees like a trail and more like a 200 mile wrong-turn-oh-shit-is-this-a-safe-neighborhood trail. We weave through the unsightly underbellies of even the tiniest towns. And, to be fair, I'm a fan of the underbelly. Even on a pig, it's where you find the most fat and flavor, but geez, in the coastal Ohio rust belt, the underbelly leaves something to be desired. I suppose if you've never seen a block of deserted buildings with broken glass, or strip malls built in the 70's with too much pavement, or a wine/liquor/lottery store, you might find this “coastal trail” interesting. But we didn't.

Around noon we got into a big thunderstorm, so we pulled off and got our rain gear on in a bait shop. Nothing like shimmying out of your jeans and into some nylon britches with thousands of minnows watching. We found shelter in a town called “Geneva-on-the-Lake”. Southerners, think Myrtle Beach, or Gatlinburg. We got a bite to eat at the Firehouse Winery. Doesn't that sound wonderful? It wasn't. We had to wait awhile on that storm, so we got a bottle of their wine. Suffice it to say, we left a third of it in the bottle.

The ride east after that was really nice for a bit. No towns, no other cars. Just cool air and occasional rain. Ashtabula was sort of neat. The “Coastal Trail” guides you down a cool brick street and a sweet little downtown. We are soon in Erie, PA, where we find out the DOT are idiots.

Our route gets detoured. Whoever designed this detour needs a good talkin' too. First, they didn't quite put detour directional signs at every turn. Then, they direct this route right through another incredibly busy road, congesting traffic even worse. Then, to get you back on track, they have you turn left across 2 lanes of traffic on a really extra busy road. This is where we dumped the bike in the middle of the intersection.

Don't panic. If anything major happened, I wouldn't be casually blogging. Here's all it was: we were turning left. The traffic across from us was also turning left. On a whim, the driver second from the front car across from us decides to pull out and go straight the very moment we are turning. Rather than get us run over, and since we weren't going fast, the Pirate laid the Girl over. We both landed on our feet, I was still holding my map. I think that driver nearly fainted when he realized what happened, but he should have, the asshole. He did pull over to make sure we were OK, but at that point we were so disgusted with the whole stupid “coastal trail” and all the people and towns along it, that we just picked the Girl up, dusted her off, and left.

I couldn't be more thrilled that this our last night in the U.S. for awhile. We are in a little town just outside the New York border in a motel listening to it rain. We will be to Niagara Falls tomorrow before lunch, and to Toronto by cocktails. In honor of the 4^th of July, we are leaving the country.