At about this time last year, Pete and I went on an epic weekend trip to Quebec City, where we dawdled along the back roads of the province while (in theory) providing road support for a small group of bicycling friends.  Last weekend we did the same thing, but this time on a two-day, there-and-back trip between the border and a friend’s cabin in the Adirondacks.

Of course, this meant that Pete and I happily ended up spending most of our spare time on the first day running errands in Plattsburgh, New York.  I am proud to tell you, however, that when we were going grocery shopping, I overheard another pair of customers — not us! — gazing admiringly at something or other in the grocery section and marveling, “Now this?  This would cost $4 in Montreal!”  And while in Target, the following bus pulled up right outside:

… and started unloading little old French ladies into the front door.  Every time that you think I’m getting hyperbolic about American shopping over here, just remember the chartered bus driven 1.5 hours across the border to the poor, picked-over Plattsburgh Target.

(We also snagged lunch in the food court, which reminds me that I need to write up a separate post about my everlasting love for Taco Bell’s 7-Layer Burrito and nachos with synthetic bright orange nacho cheesy product.  We never eat fast food except when on vacation, and… mmm.  Burritos for lunch next week, methinks.)

(Or maybe I won’t write up a separate post about my love for the 7-Layer Burrito and nacho cheesy product.  I’ll just state it again and move on: damn, sometimes Taco Bell can be tasty, you guys.)

The only downside of the bike route extending through the Adirondacks as opposed to rural Quebec was that, although it was every bit as scenic as last year’s route, there are virtually no places to pull over and quietly take photos; there are many more other cars and bicyclists, and (of course) many more mountains and trees and things occupying the shoulder.  So, in the absence of any visual documentation, let me tell you that it was still a gorgeous drive, and that the wide, freshly-paved road surfaces of New York state are apparently an immense improvement over Quebec’s.  And we took a hike on the second day before we left, and the entire forest smelled like a Christmas tree.  I’d like to bottle that scent up in a jar and carry it around with me.

We also left the cabin on the second day in a car crammed with two sore additional passengers, their backpacks and panniers, and a poor lone watermelon that had been overlooked during the previous night’s feast.  The problem was that we wouldn’t legally be able to bring said watermelon back across the border, but it seemed like a pity just to throw it out; due to the lack of room in the backseat, it was carefully cradled in a lap the entire way back while we tried to figure out what to do with it.

Fortunately, we caught up with the riders in Mooers, right before the border and about 90 km into their ride, and I don’t think that I will ever see anybody quite as enthusiastic about a watermelon ever again in my life.  If you’ve been on the road in the sun all day eating and drinking heavy food, I guess a watermelon is exactly what you want to see.

joyous post-ride watermelon, originally uploaded by Bork Bork Bork.

This weekend, for the first time in a very long while, we have absolutely no plans to leave the country.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 6th, 2010 at 9:51 am and is filed under bits. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.