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| Val-Kill Stone House - Hyde Park, New York |
I woke around 6:30 this morning, packed, ate and was on the road by 7:00. At this point, everything I am carrying has an exact place where it belongs. Packing and unpacking is very routine.
Upon entering the Hyde Park area, I couldn’t help but stop in and visit Eleanor Roosevelt’s home, Val-Kill. I signed up for the 9:30 AM tour and was not disappointed. After a short video that focused on her accomplishments and the house, a park ranger led us through the home she primarily stayed in when she was older. A large body of her writing was composed at Val-Kill. It was fascinating to walk through rooms that were set up like she had them (they were photographed immediately after she passed away). The accommodations were not lavish, by any means. It was quite inspiring to learn more about a person who fought tirelessly for human rights and wander around the place where she found inspiration.
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| Cutting Garden - Val-Kill |
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| Eleanor Roosevelt's Writing Desk - Val-Kill |
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| Knitting Chair (Fireside) - Val-Kill |
After leaving Val-Kill, I crossed the Hudson River on the “Hudson River Walkway”, then followed a rail trail for a total of eight miles. Both coasts are in the process of converting old, unused sections of railroad into bike / pedestrian paths – smart idea. The “East Coast Greenway” project looks to eventually link together a bike path that runs the length of the Atlantic. This will be a catalyst for future bicycle tourism which will benefit humanity as a whole.
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| Warning - Hudson River Walkway |
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| Looking South - Hudson River Walkway |
I spent my down time today in New Paltz – reading, resting, writing, contacting family. It was good to catch up a bit with my dad and oldest son, Olin, in Alaska. They anticipate a purse seine opener in Valdez on Monday. I wish them well.
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| Looking for Campsite (Long Shadows at Sundown) |
I left New Paltz around six, thinking that a reasonable campsite would present itself a short distance down the road. I ended up cycling for another fifteen miles. Maybe I’m getting too choosy. I was past Dwaarkill, and operating by the light of the full moon and intermittent fireflies, when I finally happened upon a graveyard.
I will admit that I don’t want to make a habit of sleeping with the dead, but I didn’t think that they’d mind if I slipped into their domain for a night. I pitched my tent behind a tombstone with large, hedge-like bushes on either side, affording me a touch of privacy; the Couser family were my closest companions. This would be my first time sleeping in a graveyard. It seemed rather peaceful.
I woke in a panic at about two o’clock AM, engulfed in light. The spirit of Ms. Couser was upon me, my only protection – the mosquito mesh of my tent. My time had come.
Gathering my senses, I steeled myself and lifted my head. The full moon was perfectly centered in my tent door. Coincidence? No. The dead play tricks.
I slowly exhaled and fell back to sleep with a smile.
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| The Witching Hour (Moon Through Mosquito Net) |
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