A Weeklong
Motorcyle Adventure
in Lake George and Upstate New York

Appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, October 2021.  The Post-Gazette's site is paywall activated and imposes a limit of free stories per month. This is the story as published. It can also be found on the Post-Gazette's site here.

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BY ANTHONY CONROY

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LAKE GEORGE, N.Y. — Miles of winding and mountainous roads. An expansive blue lake. Sweeping vistas. Historical significance. Fall foliage.

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Situated at the southern end of the Adirondack Mountains, Lake George was exactly as advertised. Well, almost.

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The “Queen of American Lakes” invites anyone with a love for water-based activities and mountaintop views of lush valleys and distant ridges. Unfortunately, fall hadn’t arrived by late September and neither had the blazing reds, oranges and yellows I was hoping to see and photograph. But for a guy on a motorcycle, it provided pristine and challenging roads, and I hardly missed the autumn leaves.

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In the village of Lake George, which was host to the annual Americade motorcycle rally Sept. 21-25, life moves at an easier pace, even when 10,000 or so bikers make themselves at home there. When not hosting a bike rally, the town is a wonderful spot to spend an extended weekend. If traveling conventionally along interstates, expect the drive to take 9 hours.

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This year’s Americade was something of an anomaly. Normally, the rally attracts more than 50,000 motorcyclists and is held in the second week of June when college and high school students are out of school and working at the many places that cater to summer tourists. Organizers moved the date to try to avoid what has become unavoidable: COVID-19.

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The move meant cooler temperatures — a plus for motorcyclists wearing pants, boots and jackets — but some odd business hours, since so many places had already closed for the season. No matter, as there was still plenty to do.

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Primarily, I was there to enjoy the roads. I rode up on a Honda CB650R and back on a Honda Africa Twin Adventure Sports. For the rally, Honda was joined by other manufacturers, including Yamaha, Indian, Triumph and KTM, offering demo rides from the parking lot next to Fort William Henry.

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Many rides started on Canada Street/Route 9N, the main street in the village, and continued as 9N becomes Lake Shore Drive, where I found Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah’s folksy song of the same name and its cascading piano an earworm I couldn’t shake. (Come take a journey to the center of my mind.)

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Traveling along the western shore, 9N twists its way past dozens of marinas, antique shops, motels, cottages and resorts, and through towns like Diamond Point, Bolton and Sabbath Day. Not surprisingly, there are plenty of places to stop for a drink or take in the view.

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At the northernmost point of the lake near the Vermont border and the southern end of Lake Champlain is Fort Ticonderoga and Mount Defiance — important sites during the French and Indian War and the American Revolution. A two-day adult ticket ($24) is good for the fort and Mount Defiance. 

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Riding along the eastern shore is a bit more complex, as several roads are required to get back to the village of Lake George.

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Once in town, there are a number of dining and drink options. Or, if you’d rather take a stroll in the town’s charming business district, stop at one of the many ice cream shops. I meandered to Lake George Olive Oil Co. for a peanut butter cup gelato and people-watched from their outdoor patio. Next door is the Adirondack Winery, where you can pick up gifts for friends and loved ones. 

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About a block away on Canada Street is Duffy’s Tavern, which is the strip’s rowdiest spot — at least during bike week. Bikers there blew off steam and entertained themselves with burnouts and engine revving well into the night. Across the street is Molly Malone’s, an Irish-themed gift shop that, unlike its noisy neighbor, may be the quietest spot in town.

“There’s normally a domino of motorcycles lining each side of the street,” said Robin McDonough, 45, owner of Molly Malone’s. “We don’t seem to have that this year. The event is huge in bringing in business and helping the tourism trade. It does exactly what you think it does.”

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Next to Duffy’s, on the other side of the Old Courthouse, is Shepard Park, which includes a small pavilion for live concerts and benches to enjoy views of the lake. It also was my favorite place to sit on an Adirondack chair — given the location, go figure — and watch the constant parade of motorcycles ride past.

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There were all kinds of bikes: old, new, stock, custom, two wheels, three wheels. Some had neon lights. Some had dogs in a sidecar. Of course, a beefed up police presence made sure everything — at least during the day — stayed family-friendly.

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On Canada Street, I sat on a bench with two buddies — Tim VanNortwick, 53, and Edward Goddeau, 53 — who rode in from Plattsburgh, N.Y., and watched the bikes while their wives shopped nearby.

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“I started coming here 25 years ago with my father,” Goddeau said. “Ever since then, it’s a been a ritual. You come down here and enjoy the peace and relaxation, and the company of family. The people of Lake George are incredible.”

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For those looking for non-motorcycle events, the region and its topography offers plenty of options. Paddleboat cruises offer dining on the lake and there’s a public beach in the summer. For hikers, there’s a system of trails throughout the area. A number of rental companies cater to kayakers, divers and boaters. There are golf courses, waterparks and a nearby amusement park to keep the kids occupied. Of course, the Adirondacks become a destination for skiers in the winter.

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Throughout the week, a boat circled the lake, towing thrill-seeking para-sailers. They weren’t the only things taking to the sky. By Sunday, when many of the bikes and bikers had left, thousands arrived at Floyd Bennet Memorial Airport in Glens Falls, just a few miles south of Lake George, for the Adirondack Balloon Festival.

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In a thick fog, people walked along the runway and taxiway to watch the balloons take off. It looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic zombie movie. As the fog slowly burned off, about 20 balloons, well short of the normal 100 that take part, began to light up and inflate. Soon, however, word came that the FAA wouldn’t grant approval for takeoff as visibility was too low. Enthusiasts and children were still given free “rides,” as some of the balloons lifted off about 50 feet into the air but remained tethered to the ground.

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A good compensation was the ride back and another stop at an ice cream shop — this time Martha’s Dandee Creme next to the Six Flags Great Escape — in the town of Queensbury, just between Glens Falls and Lake George. I was told it was a local institution, so I felt obliged — for journalistic reasons, of course — to enjoy an orange cream twist. Confession: I was also there four days earlier for a banana split. (OK, I love ice cream.)

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Also in Queensbury is the The Log Jam, a restaurant that offers a massive salad bar and perhaps the best surf ‘n turf meal I’ve ever had, a petite filet and lobster tail that were both cooked to buttery perfection. To continue the lobster theme, my lunch the next day was a lobster roll (a touch too much mayo) at Crabby’s in Lake George. Beyond lobster and steaks, food destinations included Italian — Mama Riso’s  veal parmigiana was delicioso — Indian, sushi and barbecue.

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By the end of the five days, after I had filled up on food, ice cream and bikes, I looked forward to the ride home. But I was glowing. Lake George was wonderful and provided the backdrop to an adventure that won’t soon be forgotten.

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Bikes, Bugs and Bungees:
Postcards from Pittsburgh
to Upstate N.Y. and Back

A good road trip can be broken down into a series of moments — perfect, memorable, picturesque, scary, fun. Sometimes, they happen all at once.

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During a recent motorcycle trip to upstate New York, there were moments aplenty. The destination: Lake George in the southern Adriondacks and the annual Americade motorcycle rally.

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The purpose of the trip was simple enough. Meet up with a Honda rep at Americade. Pick up a bike. Ride it back to Pittsburgh. Review it. Of course, nothing is simple, and with a shortage of rental cars, transportation was unavailable.

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No problem, Honda said. Just ride the Honda CB650R — a newer version of the one I tested in June 2020 — to New York, and ride the second one — a Honda Africa Twin Adventure Sports — back. Sounds easy enough, except for one small thing: the CB650R is basically a sportbike (albeit with somewhat friendlier ergonomics) with a small, hard seat. Not exactly a long-hauling touring rig.

Though I carried very little luggage for the five-day stop in Lake George, the motorcycle laden with a tailbag, backpack, bungees and a very cramped and overweight pilot looked akin to the Griswold’s Family Truckster from “National Lampoon’s Vacation.” (I suppose it’s ironic, then, that very vehicle would make a guest appearance at the lake.)

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My holiday road didn’t include Wally World, but counting a few side trips along the way, it measured a little more than 1,200 miles. Add another 300 or so miles in the Lake George area.

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The trip began under darkness and through fog along Route 22. Near Blairsville, a small herd of deer popped out of the mist and into my path, coming this close to ruining the trip.

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At Route 119, I headed north and into a surprise shower about 10 miles from Punxsutawney. Luckily, I found shelter from a rooftop just big enough to allow me to waterproof everything. Speaking of weather, I made a stop at Gobbler’s Knob hoping that my shadow would bring me better weather for the rest of the trip. I think it worked. However, I later discovered that the Punxsutawney depicted in the movie “Groundhog Day” is nothing like the real Punxsutawney. For that, apparently, you must go to Woodstock, Ill.

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After drying my tears of disappointment, the weather also dried up near Dubois. The town of Ridgway greeted me like a sun-soaked oasis. From there, it was on to Lantz Corners — basically a glorified intersection — to hook up to Route 6.

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Route 6, which covers a good portion of northern Pennsylvania, is dotted with dozens of small towns and includes some absolutely gorgeous scenery. Rolling hills, weathered barns, slow-moving buggies and isolated homes and churches, whose congregations, I imagined, must cover more ground to get to Sunday services than I needed to get to New York.

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That evening, I made a stop in Mansfield and Karl Van Norman Field, where Mansfield University’s Mountaineers football team was well on its way to beating Cornell, 48-3.

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The next morning, I headed to Towanda — where many of the town’s houses have faux historical markers — and a side trip onto Route 220, which would be part of the return journey. It was an absolutely gorgeous stretch of tarmac — with twists and elevation changes — that flows alongside the Chemung and Susquehanna rivers and Towanda Creek. It was on this road that something juicy exploded on my faceshield and rendered me half-blind for about 5 miles. Such is life on a motorcycle. At least the faceshield was down.

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Somewhere in the area of Factoryville, I cleaned my helmet and hooked onto Route 107 and rode through the upscale communities surrounding Lake Sheridan, a scenic detour around Scranton. About 20 miles later, Route 107 rejoins Route 6.

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Another rest stop was made at Honesdale, a tiny postcard town with a business district full of bars and restaurants and a great view atop Irving Cliff.

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By now my butt was sore, and I booked a room at the Hotel Wayne and self-medicated with a pint (OK, three) at its Bistro 1202.  The hotel is in an 1827 building that was turned into a hotel in 1895. While it has no elevator, it may have a few supernatural guests, as its owners claim the place is haunted.

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Alas, I was disappointed the next morning when I discovered poltergeists were neither interested in waking me up nor in repacking and rebungee-ing the CB650R.

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After putting Honesdale in the rearview, it was off to Milton and Matamoras, the last town in Pennsylvania before crossing the Delaware River and entering Port Jervis, N.Y. I was now traveling on Route 220. After hooking up with Route 44, I grabbed a sandwich and a Snapple at a roadside deli and headed to Minnewaska State Park and Awosting Falls.

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After a short hike, I found Peters Kill, which plunges nearly 50 feet into a rocky gorge. There was perhaps no setting more perfect for a sandwich.

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If you go, do bring bug spray. By the time I left, I realized the falls were the perfect setting for their meal, too. I hope I was as delicious as that sandwich.

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After leaving the park, it was off to New Paltz, N.Y., and a tiny side trip to Newburgh in Orange County.

In New Paltz, I met up with the Honda rep, and we made the nearly two-hour trip — me riding, him trailering my “other” bike — to Lake George. Of course, there was plenty of riding in and around Lake George.

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On the return trip, five days later, the Africa Twin and I soaked up a line of storms that began near Saratoga, N.Y., and didn’t let up until Murrysville.

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And, thanks to a tail pannier, there were no more bungees. I still had to strap the tailbag I brought to Lake George onto the pannier, but the set-up was nowhere near as ridiculous as the one I had on the CB650R.

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Despite the rain, the return trip featured amazing roads and riding. It also included some highway miles, utilizing part of Interstate 86 between Albany and Binghamton, N.Y. When not on the interstate, I rode along Route 7, then Route 17 into the Waverly/Sayre area.

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From there, it was back onto Route 220 and through Towanda and onto the same stretch I rode on the way to New York. With the rain, the pace was a bit slower, but it was still perfect in its own way.

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I stopped and spent the night in Williamsport, Pa. In the hotel parking lot, I asked a local if he could point me in the direction of the stadium used for the Little League World Series. With a puzzled look, he replied, “Which one?” and walked away.

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Later, I realized the stadium is part of a complex of fields — all side by side. Touche, Senor Smartass.

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After leaving Williamsport, the Honda and I made our way back into familiar territory: Bellefonte, Port Matilda, Tyrone, Altoona. Finally, I picked up Route 22 near Duncansville, on the homestretch to a journey that began a week earlier.

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— Anthony Conroy, Post-Gazette