Welcome back! It’s been almost exactly six months since I signed off after returning from Italy. I expected big changes in 2023, and the fates have not disappointed.

Both Emily Is Hard to Kill and Art to Die For have been published. I went to my first book fair in Norfolk in June and added direct sales to my offer. Now I can sell books directly, and offer signed first editions to my readers. Click here for more info.

All winter I looked for a new living arrangement. Much as I liked the Pembroke Towers and my neighbours, the rent was too high to allow me to rent a pied-à-terre in Italy. It would keep rising in the future. But it was the sea rising, not the prices, that made my mind up. Norfolk is sinking faster than the sea is rising, a double whammy that finds the street by the Hague River flooded during neap tides, even without a storm.

In May, I stopped looking for an available flat and looked for the ideal place, regardless of its availability. I liked Pembroke Towers, so would be happy to wait for the right place.

I applied for a place in Williamsburg on the Virginia Peninsula. Much lower rent, charmingly set into the woods, two kilometres from Interstate 64 and just up the hill from the Virginia Capital Bikeway. Low turnover, so it would be months before a place opened up. Oh, and it is 23 metres above sea level.

I expected to tour in Italy this summer while I waited for someone to move. Amber, the manager, called me back in ten days! I signed the lease, and moved out of Pembroke Towers on 1 July.

I am back on the road for four and a half months, with all my belongings packed into the car and my bicycle hanging on the back. The flat will be ready in mid-November.

I spent July house- and cat-sitting again. A week in my son’s flat whilst he was on holiday. Two weeks helping my friend Richard with work around his house on Cape May, New Jersey. All of September on Cape May, Martha’s Vineyard and Block Island with Cheryl, then visiting family in New England. In October, I will pick up my car and drive to the 64^th Annual Conference of the American Translators’ Association in Miami, Florida. After the conference, a slow return to Williamsburg and move in. I decided to postpone the next trip to Italy until after I settle the flat in Williamsburg.

I won’t report on the driving. This blog is about the bicycle.

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Cape May occupies the southernmost tip of New Jersey. From here, the Cape May-Lewes ferry crosses the Delaware Bay to connect with Delaware. It’s a pleasant 90-minute trip, and bicycles ride for free (the cyclist pays the pedestrian rate).

Cape May is a historic American town on so many levels. It has been a resort for all social classes. A thriving fishing community even before the Europeans arrived. A refuge and the home of many heroes of the American saga of Black freedom.

My friend Richard lives in Cape May Courthouse, where the county seat is located. His home connects to the beaches at Stone Harbor, Avalon, Wildwood and Cape May by smooth, flat roads with shoulders and the 17-km long Cold Spring Bike Path, which connects Atlantic Cape Community College with the road to the ferry.

When I was not moving stuff or working with the printers to publish Art to Die For, I rode the roads and bikeways. The weather was pleasant almost every day, so unlike the rest of the country. Highs of 31°C are normal in August, but more often, the mercury stayed under 29°. Contrast this with the heat waves and climate disasters unfolding across North America. Reading the news almost made me feel guilty.

The last week of August, I emptied my car, sorted everything I had, and packed my panniers for touring. With everything organized into plastic tubs and boxes, I hung the bicycle on the back of the car and drove to Old Lyme. My brother and sister-in-law let me stow the things I did not need on the bicycle in their barn. They will use my little white car while I tour.

On Thursday, 31 August, my friend Judy drove me to Wickford Junction in Rhode Island, where I caught the T commuter train to Boston. I booked a night in the HI Hostel in Boston, so I could get a shower and be at Boston Logan Airport when Cheryl flew in.

The weather over New England continued to be sunny and pleasant.

I took a long nap in the hostel Thursday night, rising before midnight to check out and catch the Blue Line subway to Logan Airport. It was still dark when Cheryl came to the baggage carousel for Air Canada. We assembled her bicycle, and rode to the ferry landing behind the Hyatt Hotel near the terminal. The first ferry to Long Wharf got us to the fast ferry to Provincetown in plenty of time.

Winds were higher than usual, so even the big catamaran, Salacia, rolled for an hour and a half across Massachusetts Bay. We stopped at the Stop & Shop supermarket, Mac’s Fish Market, the Farland Provisions Company, and the East End Market on our way out of Provincetown, knowing that the few stores in the remote parts of Cape Cod would be closed on Memorial Day weekend. Naturally, motor traffic was heavy with last-weekend vacationers, but there were hundreds of bicycles everywhere, which kept the various types of road users aware of each other.

By 16:00 we checked into the historic HI Hostel in Truro, a bucket list item for both of us. Melissa got us settled. Catherine, the manager, introduced herself when we came back from a walk on the beach. I was surprised by now high the high-water mark was, which made it easy to discourage development. In fact, the old Pamet road used to run in a loop across the beach and there were huts and shops and cottages at what was the mouth of the Pamet River marshes. In the 1930s and 40s, people were not aware of building on wetlands. In 1981, a nor’easter tore up the road, but by then the Corps of Engineers, among others, knew not to rebuild, so today, you can see where North Pamet Road runs under the sand dune and bushes that have grown up at the mouth of the wetlands.

In 1962, John F. Kennedy announced the creation of the Cape Code National Seashore, and almost immediately, the National Park Service, which had received the old Coast Guard station as a gift from the current owner, passed it to Hostelling International USA. So, the HI Hostel has been operating here as long as the Seashore has been a National Park. I hope that HIUSA never gives it up.

For the next four days, we are walking and riding around Truro and the seashore. For the next four weeks, we will build new adventures on Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, and Block Island. I will run some sea stories of my past adventures on my author’s blog for your enjoyment. After Cheryl flies home, I will let you know how our 2023 Tour turned out.

Smooth roads and tailwinds,

JT

© 2023, JT Hine