Saturday, 8/27: I woke up well before my alarm clock sounded, which usually means I have a reason to be awake -- whether I know it or not. For the first time in over a week, I turned on the TV. The US stations, now in reach, were talking nonstop about preparations for Irene. There were many scenes with meteorologists in heavy raincoats in places like North Carolina getting very wet indeed. I concluded that my original plan of a leisurely ride back to Vermont, a night at the state park, and a Sunday drive back to PA needed to be revised. I rushed out of the hotel, getting under way before 9AM for the first time all week.

Back on the Route Verte, except this time I cut some of the scenic wiggles out of the path. Thus I discovered that when (car) Rt 223 was part of Route Verte 2, it had shoulders -- but when the Verte turned onto the back roads, it was because the highway didn't have shoulders anymore. About 3 miles from the diner that rescued me from a bonk on the way north, I felt myself fading fast -- so a found a different diner, and still had a breakfast that couldn't be beat. I didn't mind spending time to get "refueled" -- but I did begrudge the time I spent in line at the border crossing. On the way north: no line. On the way south, 45 minutes waiting. I started wondering if Irene had taken out the internet connection to some huge government database near DC.

Got thru customs with no trouble ("Buy anything in Canada? Any agricultural products?" "Well, I've got an egg salad sandwich for later....") Got to the state park around 3pm, much to the relief of the ranger, who was starting to worry about me and my (abandoned?) car. I had ridden to the park with my bike on a rack on my trunk, but the thought of having that huge protuberance sticking out from my car in 60+ mph winds didn't seem wise. I spent some time disassembling by bike into frame, fenders, and tires, so that I could put it in the back seat. This greatly amused a couple from Nova Scotia who had parked their RV next to my car. "You just got here, and you're simply taking off?" "Yep. There's a hurricane headed north, and I don't want to drive through it, so I'm driving now. You might want to check in with the ranger." I find myself wondering how they made it through the weekend; they had been parked about 20 feet inland from, and 2 feet above, Lake Champlain.

50 miles on the bike. Total for the trip: 388.37 miles

Then at about 4:30 I started driving south and west, making for my parents' place outside of Scranton and (hopefully) to the west of the storm's track. The first hour or so on the NY Thruway was uneventful; around 6 pm, I started listening to Prairie Home Companion on one radio station after another as I kept moving south. The sky grew dark long before night fell. After the sun set, I had my first rain shower. Scared, I started looking for a local news station. Owing to the odd properties of AM radio after dark, I couldn't find anything local -- but I could listen to stations from New York City, Boston, and my own home of Philadelphia. It was already raining hard in Philly and Manhattan, and Boston was hunkered down. The rain had stopped where I was -- maybe it wasn't from Irene, yet -- but I knew it would be back.

My GPS was taking me to my folks' house along twisty country roads. I had asked it for speed, rather than a route I recognized, and it was doing its best to meet my request. "If I break down here," I thought, "no one will ever find me; there's no cell phone signal, and no one else is on these roads!" The wind whipped up, then the rain came down; the treetops moved in their eerie traces above me. I got to my parents' place just before midnight, about 15 minutes after the rain had started for them. Safe, warm, and dry, I joined my folks as we waited to see what the storm would bring.