Omaha to NYC D26

Static map: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/413458996?privacy_code=wAYczJWjcEzXDnAZUFttUwbLfn8rquot

Animated map: https://www.relive.com/view/vNOPLoGzX2O

Around 12:30 I woke to a flash and massive boom. For the next hour the storm rolled overhead with pounding rain. My little tent held. I'd put it guy lines, but the wind wasn't strong, a mixed blessing because it storm moved slower. After the lighting and thunder moved east, the heavy rain continued behind it for another hour then light rain the rest of the night. I remembered my friend Kate's observation that the lightning gets you through the ground. How much insulation does an air mattress have? Not a lot. 

(Yikes!)

Despite not recalling sleeping, I woke with a snort. I felt damp. Oh! I was sleeping on my wet swimming trunks. How did they get there? Except for that and an occasional mystery drip, everything was dry, but the heavy rain splattered the sides of the tent with fine sand mixed with dirt. I lingered a bit not wanting to emerge into the drippy morning. I needed to be on the road a bit earlier today. It was a potential 60-65 mile day to reach a campsite northeast of Port Stanley. I wasn't excited about it. It was a private campground, miles from the Lake Erie shore. I couldn't find anything else. It was supposed to rain again overnight with the heaviest of it forecast for 8:00 am, right when I would need to be packing up. 

(Wet, dirty, sand importantly, on the outside of the tent)

I packed up my stuff. I left the pannier for the tent and sleeping bag open. Water and sand has splattered in even though it was under the rain fly. The Chicago bikepackers had shown me the magic of campground hand dryers. I used it to dry the inside of the pannier. I also brushed the wet, dirty sand from the other panniers as best I could. 

I had breakfast for the first time ever under the tent’s rain fly. It wasn't raining much, but just enough that I didn't want to sit outside. In all my years of camping, I'd never had to make a meal in a tent vestibule. The first thing I noted was the rain fly does a great job of trapping fumes. As soon as the flame caught, I opened the fly enough to allow them to escape. The meal was quite pleasant. 

(Intimate breakfast)

Breaking down the tent was the last step. I strapped the rain fly to my rack and dried the tent and ground cover with the hand dryer. By 9:15 I was rolling. There are zero tokens on the coast in the 40 miles from Rondeau to Port Stanley so lunch would be an issue. I stopped at the tiny general store just outside the campground. The only lunchy thing were some crackers. It seemed like lunch would be the remaining cheese and these crackers. 

I was soon on Ontario Route 3 which I started calling The Long 3 in honor of its straight flatness. I think this is the flatest, straightest road I've been on the entire trip. At least the traffic was light and you caught views of the lake. Occasionally, it would sprinkle and occasionally, it seemed like the sun might come out. 

(Straight and level) 

(The Sun was trying)

As the lunch hour approached, I thought about where I could eat crackers and cheese. Just west of New Glasgow, I stopped to fiddle with my phone. I was listening to a book. When I looked up cyclist magically appeared headed in the opposite direction. How did she get so close? She was loaded for touring. I crossed over to chat and exchange news. She is from Quebec. Her name now escapes me. She is following the Great Lakes Waterfront Trail which is really more of a route than a trail. She's going all the way from Quebec along the St. Lawrence, then the North shore of Lake Ontario and now Lake Erie. She finish in Windsor. Even more importantly, I learned I had restaurants ahead of me! 

Pedalling a bit faster, I soon reached the Talbot Trails where I had a fine all day breakfast. The woman waiting didn't blink when I asked to spread out and dry my fly. What a contrast with the young person in Chelsea, MI. Soon after lunch, I finally turned off The Long 3 and into twisty, curvy, and sometimes gravelly riding that woke me up. I found out who this Talbot guy was, that many things seemed named for. He a big cheese among settlers of Upper Canada. He fought in the War of 1812 and later developed the area. 

(Talbot House)

I alternated on gravel and pavement. I'd pumped up my tires making the gravel bouncy, but I'm too lazy to keep adjusting tire pressure. I finally got a decent hill. The terrain because rolling. The road cut across stream valleys. I was reminded of Iowa. I finally stopped to look at a soybean because I could never see the brand part. Don't worry, the beans are there. 

(Meet a soybean)

Soon I was in Port Stanley. My room is in an 1876 house used as a telegraph office. I am a sucker for old hotels. This fit the bill, especially because they didn't over do it. 

(Cute digs)

After showing it was off to Shaw's Ice Cream four miles . The hugely popular ship sits on land once part of my buddy Ross’s family farm. The ice cream was delicious, Grammy’s Cupboard, a mash up of peanut butter, chocolate, and cookie dough. After the tour of the Hathaway place, it was back to town for a look around and a cider. Chill. And that was that.

(Boats in the harbor)