I heard owls in the night, something other than great horned. Sleeping without the tarp worked out until shortly after sunrise, when a small cloud came by and started spraying droplets in my face. That motivated me to break camp quickly.
The rain didn’t really come to anything, and I had a pleasant breakfast with visits from cardinals. I was feeling grody after primitive camping, and my clothes would soon be all dirty, so I was thinking of a hotel tonight. Routing to Phoenixville, near Valley Forge, would make the riding work better; the campground I’d been targeting was about 20km out of the way.
Rolling out of Lancaster, I was still in Pennsylvania Dutch country. Saw lots of Amish or Mennonites on bikes, including a family of 3 on an e-bike, and a farmer with a cargo trailer.
I also ran into a lycra ride of about 25 people going the other way. I was still on PABike route S, and this segment had some nice riding.
Looking for lunch in New Holland, Google had suggested a place called The Creamery at Garden Spot Village, which turned out to be a very strange, insular development. There’s a restaurant in there somewhere, but no signage for it. Maybe it’s an Amish retirement community or something.
I made the decision to backtrack to a place I’d seen on the other side of the road called Lickity Split. Wise choice; they had a great sandwich, ham and cheese in pretzel dough. And ice cream!
An oddness of New Holland was the dibsing of space on the sidewalk for the Spectacle of Bands parade, which was still five days away. The whole town was lined with ropes and lawn chairs.
Leaving town, there was a little more nice, pastoral riding.
Eventually Highway 23 became the only direct way through. It had a decent shoulder, but lots of traffic. On that kind of road I just go into hammer mode.
Nearing Phoenixville, the PABIke S route, and my RWGPS track, deviated from the Adventure Cycling route, taking a very quiet alternative road through the countryside. It was a welcome change; I’d had enough of the highway. I might send in a suggestion for a map update.
Phoenixville was the largest town I’d seen since Baltimore. Also the first with anti-Trump signs. And Gay Street.
There was a street festival going on in town. I was sorry to not stop, but with weather still spotty I felt like I had to get to lodging, which was on the other side of town.
The festival had jacked up the hotel rates. Given the state of my rig, I was glad to pay too much for a generic room. I spent an hour cleaning and drying clothes, gear, and me, then headed out to a generic suburban sports bar to watch the Cal game. (A victory over BC on an interception with 20 seconds left, Go Bears.)
My choice to come to Phonexville shortened my ride plan for tomorrow, so I might have time for some childhood nostalgia at Valley Forge, and a real Philly cheese steak.