After the early morning photo shoot with Joel, I got myself moving and followed a combination of long, residential streets and slightly busier main routes heading north east. For the most part I was following the Long Island commuter railway, passing regular stations as I went, and even the occasional train, which always adds to the fun. Things stayed pretty flat in mostly developed suburban surroundings until a couple of hours in to my ride. Then, at last, open, green spaces began to appear. It was around this point where I finally succumbed to my first puncture of the whole trip. And to be fair, it was a big one. I somehow rode over a nail that went right through my back tyre. I knew my tyre was coming towards the end of its life; but this would have gone through pretty much any tyre. I had bought some new tyre levers in Staten Island, and they got put straight to use, along with the inner tube I had been carrying with me all the way. And off I went again.
It took until early afternoon to find anywhere on my route that looked like a good place for lunch. Finally, I found a Tap Room in a brand new development by the train station in a town called Ronkonkoma and sat at a sunny table to enjoy a beer and a burger. I seemed to have left behind, for now at least, the America of the small family diner, but things then steadily became more rural as the afternoon wore on. I even began to see a couple of other cyclists out in the lovely weather this Good Friday. I passed through the attractive town of Riverhead and suddenly discovered that I was skirting along the coastline. The last couple of wind assisted hours of my journey were a delight, as I passed small boats moored in sheltered docks and glimpses of beaches. I was now out on the more northerly of the two long fingers of land that wrap either side of Great Peconic Bay at the eastern tip of Long Island, across the water from the desirable Hamptons. This was now a country of rushes and sand dunes and quiet coastal lanes. It put me in mind of the coast of East Anglia, which may be the reason for the naming of my final destination today, New Suffolk. Either way, it was a most delightful and very peaceful spot, with eagles and ospreys flying sround.
I rode right past the house I had been invited to stay in, but a voice shouted to me along the quiet lane and I turned back to meet Clayton, a fellow cyclist, and three generations of the most lovely, welcoming, interesting and well-travelled family you could wish to know. I was a total stranger to them, but you would never have known it. I have a bad feeling that one the daughters slept on the sofa to give me a bed for the night, but I don’t think they would have had it any other way. And so, for the second night in a row, I was treated better than I could have hoped and wined and dined in the best company possible. There is a lot wrong with the world, but experiences like this help to restore my faith in all that is good about this country.
Not satisfied with helping me for just tonight, Clayton then made arrangements so that I could benefit in a similar way for the next three nights. My trip was coming towards its end, but I was going out on a high. I went to bed feeling even luckier than usual tonight. Which is saying something.
