The layover had permitted me the luxury of doing more comprehensive searching for Babcock information. As it turned out I was able to get two hours in the photo archives of the county historical society, looking through pictures and negatives. Even though the results were disappointing, I did come away with one of those rare sensations that I had been transported to another era. The archives are kept in a small museum located right on the shores of Lake Erie, and on this particular day the surf was pounding against the beach and the wind was whipping the torrential rain into a frenzy. We sat in this enclosed porch, flipping through photos of ore ships on the lake, baseball teams (with very serious expressions), trainyards, groups of unnamed people, and many, many shots of storefronts. Someone is going to have a great ride through the last 120 years when they catalogue all these items.
The historical society was having its annual Log Cabin days celebration this weekend so I stopped by, and although the turnout was rather low due to the rain, the enthusiasm level was high.
All in all, my three nights in Jefferson were pleasant and memorable, if not bountiful. I also found that Ashtabula county has 15 covered bridges crossing the small streams of the area.
So I watched some performances and toured the town, which included many buildings from the last century, and a very large historic hotel where I had supper.
Today I will enter New York, and for me this will signal the beginning of the end of the trip. New York is the next-to-last state to cross, and although I still have a week to go, I will begin to pass though towns I have visited when I lived in New England more than twenty years ago.
Mr. Babcock remarks on the ability to make easy progress through the eastern states:
After three days rest in Ohio, Mr. Turner went on, as he was desirous of reaching Massachusetts as early as possible. Four days later I followed him, so that from Jefferson, Ohio to North Brookfield, Mass. our journey was made separately, and I must perforce chronicle my own, which was simply a repetition of his trip with this exception - he made the run by Niagara Falls, while I went directly east from Buffalo.
The evening before I was to resume the trip, a young man called on me and signified his willingness to pace me to Buffalo. Since he was the same boy who ran out sixty miles to Cleveland to meet us, and went out nearly to Buffalo with Mr. Turner, and now was to go 150 miles East with me, it is evident that there are riders in the East who are not afraid of long runs. Mr. Turner has to his credit the longest run of the journey, for he made the run to Buffalo, 152 miles, in one day, while I, in going over the same route, stopped at 4 P.M., seventeen miles short of his run.
52 miles with very little effort and shortly I'll be done with Pennsylvania. I may get a little weather tomorrow.
On the road, and now more aware of the issue of lodging.
Dennis