Day 44 – New York City

Just occasionally on a trip like this, you get to cycle somewhere truly exceptional. Today was such a day, as we made our way along the last thirty miles of the Empire State Trail. It took us along the west side of the entire length of Manhattan Island to the very bottom tip, and the conclusion of my coast to coast cycle across America.

I cannot often have felt such a sense of excitement from the saddle of a bicycle. It was the most glorious day and everywhere around us was buzzing with energy. The Hudson River looked magnificent to our right, while the tall buildings of New York City just kept getting taller by the mile.

It was hard to keep your eyes on the busy trail, with all of the accompanying obstacles: other cyclists, runners, food delivery people undertaking us at speed on their e-bikes. There seemed to be more of everything here. More noise, more people, more things in the way, and more incredible views left, right and ahead of us. It was an assault on the senses.

In front of a huge aircraft carrier, The Intrepid, moored by the pier at the end of 46th Street, I heard a familiar voice calling out “Uncle Mark”. It was my eldest nephew, Sean, out on a street rental bike to meet us and ride the last few miles together to Battery Park. What a great way to finish, in the company of a close friend and a family member under the warm autumn sun.

Sean showed us the 9/11 Memorial at Ground Zero. I had not seen it before and found it very moving. It was a tremendous task to create something simultaneously big enough, sombre enough and also very beautiful in commemoration of all of those who died that terrible day. But I must say, they got it just right for me. The memorials (one for each tower) are holes in the ground, each apparently occupying the footprint of the missing building. All around the huge square is a railing of marble with the names of the deceased inscribed. Over the railing, water cascades inwards into the deep hole from all four sides, and on into the ground. Like many people, I vividly remember watching those live images on television, and the plane crashing into the second tower. It was a day that changed the world forever. I hadn’t stood here since the memorial was completed. I am glad I saw it.

And then, just a short distance further on, under the glinting spire of the replacement One World Trade Center, we reached the end. The Statue of Liberty rose into view on the horizon, surprisingly small and far away across the blue water. In front of her lay Ellis Island, the gateway to the New World for many millions of immigrants whose journeys over the Atlantic ended here. These historic potent symbols of a new beginning for so many, today represented a triumphant end for me, and a passage to another phase of my long journey home. It was amazing to think that the whole of the breadth of the USA lay behind me. Three and a half thousand miles of pedalling had brought me here in 45 days. Wow!

And then it was time to leave. I had a wife waiting for me in Reykjavik and a train to catch to a plane. It was time to go through the New York metro to Grand Central Station, employing the considerable height and strength of my lacrosse playing nephew to help my bike up and down the steps. My brush with New York City had been fleeting but magnificent. I will come back, just as I have visited several times before. It is unique. A fitting way to end an epic six week journey from the Pacific to the Atlantic coasts of this enormous country. And a journey I will never forget.