I'm in my tent cooking up some rice in the Pinnacle Soloist. I had to do the whole "asking a stranger for a place to camp for the night" thing again, which is surprisingly scary. I got into the town of Horseheads, NY (so named due to the number of horse heads left behind as trail markers by General Sullivan's army during the Revolutionary War) and knocked on one door. The guy who answered didn't own the place, and didn't think his landlord would be amenable to the idea of someone camping on the property. Moving on, I happened across a lady walking the biggest, shaggiest dog I'd ever seen in my life, so I stopped to chat and pet the dog. I thought of asking her for a place to camp, but chickened out.

I finally saw a place with a beautiful old white house, several red barns behind it, and a spacious lawn going down to a cornfield with a huge tree that looked like a perfect camping spot. I knocked on the door and gave my spiel: "I'm biking through here on my way to California." To my surprise, the owner, Doug, had biked to California once too! We started chatting, and he offerred to show me his photos of the trip. He and his buddy had biked from Syracuse, NY to Eureka, CA in about 7 weeks (though it sounds like there was a bit of hitchhiking mixed in there too). They had $5 a day, which is pretty little even by 1974 standards, and in those days long-distance biking was so uncommon that they actually got pulled over by the police and searched a few times.

The conversation with Doug, a hot shower, and a lovely camping spot (oh, and clean clothes, thanks to Koni's laundry facilities the night before) were the perfect end to an awesome day. My day started with a brief walk down a wooded trail with spectacular views (Ithaca is indeed, as the T-shirts say, "gorges") to the white and glass building where Koni works, then to Collegetown where Koni pointed me in the right direction to get back to Route 13. Good thing too, since a wrong turn down any of the steep hills near campus would have been difficult to rectify.

From there I made very little progress. I stopped for a bagel and uploaded some photos at an outdoor cafe. I did some bathing suit shopping, in vain: all bathing suits are on clearance, and while dirt cheap are also hideously ugly. Then Lisa, Koni's sister and one of my oldest and dearest friends called. We hadn't spoken in quite some time so it took a good hour and a half to get up to speed. Like Koni, Lisa has gone through major turmoil in the last few months and as I talked to her I actually started crying, I was so angered and saddened at some of the crappy treatment she has endured. It was particularly frustrating that I felt like I couldn't do very much to help either—she and I have rescued each other many times in the history of our friendship and I can't rescue her this time. But at the very least I can pedal my butt out to Santa Monica and give her a big hug.

When I did finally get on the road I found it hard to not think about our conversation, and hard not to get upset. But I did get a much needed pick-me-up when I noticed a sign for the Ithaca Sound Maze, curiosity got the better of me, and I pedaled down a gravel road to check it out. There was nobody around, but on the honor system I put my $5 admission fee in a metal box and proceeded into a corn maze where I quickly found the first of a dozen or so crazy musical instruments made from spare parts. It is hard to describe the enjoyment of finding a giant instrument tucked among the corn rows, grabbing a mallet or two out of an orange plastic bucket, experimenting to see what kinds of sounds it will make, and eventually composing various riffs and melodies.

In the Sound Maze, like the rock gym and Octagon Village, you feel like you're peeking into the brain of a very playful and creative person—it's a physical manifestation of someone's crazy and clever idea. When I was first planning this trip, I had reserached corn mazes in Massachusetts and New York, but couldn't find any that were along the way. So how happy was I to discover a corn maze that ALSO had nutty musical instruments to play with? Wonderful strokes of serendipity like this seem to be a hallmark of the voyage already.

And I add meeting Doug and camping on his lawn to the list. He kept saying "You really ought to find someone to go with." But honestly, I'm really glad that I'm going by myself. I go at precisely my own pace—no slower, no faster. I do exactly what I want to do when I feel like doing it. What if I were traveling with someone who wasn't interested in stopping to see the Sound Maze? I could have missed that experience entirely. If you have never traveled by yourself, I do recommend trying it at some point. It is a real joy.

In the end, Doug decided it was okay that I'm going alone. "God will be with you." Amen to that.