-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Update 1 --------------------------------------------------------
OUR TRIP DESCRIBED ON NEW ENGLAND TELEVISION
Fenway Park management learned of our trip somehow (OK, we slipped 'em a note) and in the 6th inning a Red Sox official
climbed up into the Bleachers in the far, far reaches-- where we had seats among wild beer-swigging college kids -- and personally
escorted us to Grandstand seats right behind home plate.
Then, we learned, the television crew announcing the game described our trip to the audience throughout New England.
---------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------Update 2 ------------------------------------------------------------
WE ARRIVE HOME SAFELY AFTER A LONG 56-HOUR DRIVE
On Wednesday, July 10, we left Maine at 6 am and drove straight through (except for gas stops and a two-hour sleep near Chicago),
arriving home before noon on Friday, July 12. There are some darned scarey curves out there at 2 am. But, Amtrak, eat your heart out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Additions -----------------------------------------------------------
WE WILL ADD SOME NEW ENTERTAINING SECTIONS SOON
We have thrived on the interest so many have shown in our trip, plus the support of our friends and relatives upon whom we imposed
ourselves during our travel. As a small way of saying "thanks" we are working not only on a 'thank-you' section but also on a 'highlights'
section, (we saw some really really weird things and would like to list them) and in a small way repay the gracious people who
hosted us or cared enough to follow our adventure. Please visit again soon for our latest effort.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite 98-degree temperatures and near 100-percent humidity John, Paul and Bruce pushed 108 miles
on the last day to reach the Maine coast at Ogunquit, thus finishing their cross-continental bike ride.

Local headlines proclaimed "HOT! HOT! HOT!" with locals wilting in the heat. Ice machines were
empty and beaches full.

But heat was just a backdrop as the riders neared what was for each a lifelong dream -- crossing the
continent by bicycle.

As they wheeled their bikes across the sands of Ogunquit Beach they each felt a surprising surge
of emotions and put the bikes aside for a group hug as bystanders watched.

"We actually made it!"

Curious beachgoers asked about the trip and watched with grins as the three cyclists posed for pictures.

The trio rode 3,146 miles in 38 days (including four days off because of weather and various
setbacks), averaging just under 100 miles per riding day.

New England proved to be even more hilly than expected, requiring nearly 7,000 feet of climbing
on each of several days to cross. (We were informed by local cyclists we had chosen one of the three
toughest routes across Vermont.) Far harder, though, was the relentless heat and humidity.

Long, steep climbs made cooling off difficult as the last afternoon wore on.

But the final dozen miles were easier -- the terrain was less rugged and marine air dropped
air temperatures to a comfortable 91 degrees.

Following a couple days rest, Bruce, Paul and John planned several days of roughing it --on the
beach, touring Bar Harbor, trying the local lobster, taking an Amtrak train to Boston for a
Red Sox game in Fenway Park, and celebrating the Fourth of July at a lakeside home in New Hampshire.

The really tough part of the trip begins July 10: the intense drive home via Interstates.

------
Earlier ....

T-Storms plague us as we head for Vermont

Storms continued following us into the Adirondack Mountains of New York . Over several days we dodged
a series of severe thunderstorms, always just managing to find safety under overpasses or on
the porches of local town halls -- once even dashing into a golf snack shop near Pulaski, NY
just as lightning struck the adjacent pole and knocked out power. (We later learned a local
woman was struck and killed in her yard by lightning at the same time -- news that sharply
sobered us.)

In such conditions we have sought out motels when possible. But upstate New York is highly rural and
in many cases we have camped. Our tents keep us dry but rolling up wet gear in the morning is a
routine we have grown used to but never prefer.

The terrain has gradually grown steeper, with roads often rising beside rushing streams. Friday's (June
28) ride exceeded 4,000 feet in climb and we expect much more as we head into the Green
Mountains of Vermont on Sunday. (The climb counts all the hills, and ignores downhills. Thus
we can climb 4,000 feet a day but be only 800 feet higher in elevation at the end of the day; it
is simply a measure of the rigor of the day's efforts.)

Upstate New York is very green, with small towns built around logging and fishing (sound familiar?)
We are now into prime vacation time and as we run into the occasional tourist spot the traffic
has become heavy, making our 6:30 am starts even more vital.

Friday night we stayed in the Country Club Motel in Old Forge, NY -- it happens the owner, Bill, is an
avid cyclist himself and gave us a special discount. He also gave us some tips on alternate
roads, and was so excited by our tour he abandoned the front desk (with the grudging
permission of his wife) so he could ride with us Saturday.

At Walt's Diner that morning he introduced us around to the locals (mostly very hefty men eating
sausage, bacon, eggs, homefries and buttered bread) and they were incredulous we had cycled from
Washington. Paul, unnoticed in civilian clothes, (he was sagging that day) stayed behind to
finish his coffee and observed as the diner crowd came alive with comments once the cyclists
had left.

"You wouldn't get me out there on a bike!" the chef yelled. "Not a mile!" (Approving laughter.)

"All the way from Washington State? They must be chasing a rainbow!" said another, wiping the egg
from his plate with a piece of toast.

"I wouldn't do that," said a third. "Wind up in the middle of nowhere dying of a heart attack--
Notice they didn't tell you how many of 'em started out!" (Gales of laughter.)

Saturday, June 29, we planned to stop in historic Ticonderoga at the Vermont border, and take a ferry
the next morning (June 30) across Lake Champlain and on into Vermont. Closing in!

Earler ----

NIAGARA FALLS ; SETBACK IN ONTARIO

After passing the 2,500-mile mark, we crossed back into the USA, choosing a rickety bridge
known locally as the "Whirlpool Bridge." This was on a tip from a friendly Canadian who said the
Canadians use this old bridge to avoid long lines at US Customs (tourists don't know about this
route.) Sure enough we were the only vehicle entering and after a couple easy questions
("OK, guys, how many cases of Canadian beer and Scotch are you bringing over?" "None" "OK, on
your way!") we were back in the States.

The most pleasant surprise of the trip so far has been southern Ontario, with its garden-like farms,
vistas of Lakes Erie, Huron and Ontario, and friendly drivers (a relief after the monsters of Michigan.)

For sustained, agreeable pleasure, Ontario has been the highlight. But ironically this positive place
dealt us the worst setback of our trip.

Staying in the Comfort Inn of Niagara Falls, Ontario, we were awakened at 3 am by the front
desk, which said one of our bikes had been stolen from the top of our van.

Rushing down to the parking lot, we discovered our security cable had been sliced and Paul's bike
taken, along with John's Aero-bladed front wheel.

Much of the rest of the night was spent talking with police, putting the remaining bikes into the
motel storage, and sitting dejectedly in the lobby wondering what we could do next.

We were told bike thefts are quite common in Niagara and it apparently is something of an
industry among certain locals. (The Canadians we spoke with were extremely sympathetic and
apologetic.)

Next morning, a search of the Internet provided us with almost unbelievable luck -- there was a dealer
nearby (in St. Catharines, ON) who carried our recumbent bikes. (The next nearest was hundreds
of miles away, near Pennsylvania.) So we packed up and drove the 15 miles. Most of the day
was spent getting the bike set up for lengthy travel. That afternoon we rode the Niagara River
Parkway Trail to the Falls, and then went across to the USA.

Disaster -- but the tour continues.

--------------

See below for photos.

----------------

---------------