80 miles

I found another bunch of holes in my sleeping pad last night—I took it into the shower at the Welcome Center to find and mark them. I knew there was an REI in Rochester just off the Erie trail, so I plan on stopping to replace it. Wilson kindly paid for my breakfast. We ate at the Brockport Diner, which is a type of no-frills, greasy American diner that I’ve always felt has a certain charm.

We rode to REI, and I got my new sleeping pad. We stopped at a Wegmans to wait out a rainstorm. While we were there, a guy rode up with a brake problem. His name was Mike. He’s a software engineer who lives in Fairport with his wife and three kids. Wilson fixed his bike and Mike bought him a sandwich. 

The stories Wilson tells are fantastic. He served in the navy, grew up “in the hood” in DC, and now lives in Maine during the winter, where he is a store manager or something seasonal at Shaw’s in Freeport. He lives in Gray. His family is based somewhere in the South—maybe Nashville? He sleeps in a hammock. He has delivered two babies. He’s met Dave Chappelle. He cuts down trees for people, does landscaping, and other odd jobs for money. He does well, it seems, on his personality. He’s outgoing, polite, confident, and absolutely full of stories. We made it to the South Shore RV Park for the night.