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Amish Horses and
An Amazing Encounter in Erie
Erie, Pennsylvania

Day 10 - Wednesday - June 12, 2002

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I set out on a rainy morning. I pass by some Amish men in carriages. One sees me gawking at him and waves at me. The other gawks back at me. For once in my journey there is a mutual exchange of gawkeries.


Belgium draft horses on an Amish farm
north of Fern, PA
By noon it has stopped raining. Wisps of dark cloud like hooves of a vest barbarian horde gallop across the hills and woods. The Lake Erie wind pushes me back south. I see great brown Belgian horses with blonde manes. They are almost as large as a Clydesdale. They have very powerful bearing. The herd stops what they are doing and check me out. The matriarch steps out from the herd to get a better impression of me. I try my best to let them know they are beautiful and awesome creatures, but I believe they somewhat perplexed by my bike, with its bright yellow trailer and flag, gears clicking and shifting, and my wet cleats squeaking: what manner of beast has flesh and metal, has the upper body of a man, the buttocks of a sow, and the tail of a peacock?

I finally make it to Erie, PA, the last leg of my journey through the mountains and valleys of what was once the western extension of Connecticut. This is the town my mother was born in, but just born in for she was raised on Long Island, NY.


Amy, Steve Lung and their son, Nathan

I am amazed once again when I ask direction for Erie's Peninsula campsite. They not only give me directions but also offer me food and shelter. Amy and Steve Lung were having a walk with their three year old son Nathan when this road weary soul asked them for directions. Amy is a biologist who once studied prairie dogs and camped in the Petrified Forest of Arizona. Now, she raises her son, and makes soap out her basement office. "Like in Fight Club!" I say. No, her soap smells sweet, looks good enough to eat and goes by flavorful names like "Oatmeal and Honey" and "Lemon Aid." She reinforces my hygiene supply with two such bars.


Amy, Steve Lung and their son, Nathan
Steve once went on a cycle tour and, after treating me to a middle-eastern feast at a hall called Ali Baba, and a nighttime drive of the Peninsula from which we could see the lighted nightscape of Erie from across the bay, he showed me pictures of his trip with two of his friends. He went across America after graduating from North Western in Boston. After advising me to see the Black Hills and the Badlands of South Dakota we all bade each other goodnight.

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