64 miles

I’m sitting outside of a coffee shop called Harbor Perk in Ashtabula, eating my way through a box of donuts which were criminally underpriced at Squire Bakery, just one block away.

I woke up cold in my hammock last night and had to get out my sleeping mat in the middle of the night. After that, I slept again until 6:30 am, when I decided it was time to pack up. I went back down to the beach to eat my first breakfast and wake up a bit before getting on the road. 

Outside the bakery, I talked to a man named Bill who was riding by on a trike with a basket. He told me he is 83 years old, and has lived in Ashtabula his whole life, in the same house. He broke his shoulder falling off a curb last year. He can’t raise his arm now. He was fun to chat with. 

There’s a lift bridge next to this Cafe. It rises for boats, and people stop to watch. 

I crossed into Pennsylvania, and arrived at Presque Isle state park, which was definitely not a campground. I had left my new spork at Squire’s Castle, so I bummed a plastic fork off a passing stranger. I ate some green beans and mashed potatoes and looked for a place to camp out. I decided it would be best to follow a trail literally labeled “A trail” and pitched my tent. There was a little spot under a big dying tree, which made me a little nervous, but the air was completely still, so it seemed unlikely that its limbs would fall in the <7 hours I’d be there. I accepted the risk.

This park is on a tiny peninsula just off the shore of Erie, PA. It’s about the size of Belle Isle. It was very busy when I got here, but it closes after dark, so it was sort of amazing to hear all sounds completely fade out until there was nothing but frogs and birds and then just crickets – literal crickets – and me.