42.0 mi / 9.7 mph / 2323 ft. climbing
Home: Fair Haven Beach State Park Campground

We are booked to sail on the Queen Mary 2 from New York City at the end of July, so our original plan was to ride from Skaneateles to New York City to continue restoring our cycling muscles before landing in England (we would take the “new to us” Erie Canal/Empire State Trail route rather than the over-the-Catskills route we did in 2024). But after four weeks, we somehow felt like we still hadn’t had enough time at Ken’s, and apparently the feeling was mutual(!), so we decided to stay for another 10 days and take the train to NYC instead.

In “exchange”, Ken encouraged us to ride our bikes to the Sterling Renaissance Festival, which would be an opportunity to both visit our beloved fest for the 4th time (2015, 2022, 2024), and, along with a couple nights of camping, work as a proper “shakedown” trip for all our newly-acquired/repaired gear (plus give Ken a couple nights alone in his house). Rett was initially unexcited about combining the two activities, because getting all costumed-up is a core part of the Renaissance Faire experience for her, and it’s understandably challenging to join that with sweaty bike riding. But after some coaxing (how cool would it be to turn up on our loaded bikes? And, combining bike riding with such “fancy” activities might be something we want to practice before Europe), she got on board.

We left early on Sunday morning to ride the 35 miles directly to the Festival, but the steady headwind and lack of practice at hauling our loaded bikes up so many hills got us to the site more than an hour after Rett had hoped. Still, the weather was perfect, and the drive from Skaneateles is so rural and untrafficked, that the bike ride felt even more like a slow journey back to 1585.

It was no surprise that there was no designated bike parking, and also no surprise that the parking attendants and security people we asked had no suggestions immediately spring to mind when presented with this novel situation. No problem, simply locking them together in a relatively visible space was the best I had hoped for, and I’d feel comfortable that a Renaissance Faire crowd wouldn’t go digging through panniers on strange bikes. So it was a surprise when, without any further prodding from us, the security kids took the initiative to radio management, and they said we could store them inside the gates!

I actually felt a little bad about this, because I know that Renaissance Festivals (including Sterling) try hard to avoid anachronistic modern elements from appearing anywhere inside their walls. But I wasn’t going to turn down the ultimate security, plus easy access to anything we might need throughout the day! I did remove the fluorescent yellow rain covers from my panniers so that at least the colors would look more period-appropriate. The fun of “celebrity” status was one reason I was excited about riding the the fest, but I hadn’t expected it to touch us immediately!

Rett did her freshening-up and outfit change in the open grass just outside the gate, while I put on my pants in a parking lot Port-a-potty. Then, despite entering 90 minutes after our target of the 10am gate-open, Rett was able to immediately get a spot in the face-painting booth, and we were ready to get reacquainted with Warwick Village in 1585!

When we first visited in 2015 (excluding Rett’s pre-adult visits), the festival grounds were so unfilled that it felt like the whole operation might have been at risk of dying. But now 11 years later, it seems like it’s running nearly at full-strength again. It means we don’t quite get that personal attention that made the first visit so magical, the feeling that the village was built just for us, but we still had a host of enriching interactions with the “native” villagers and visiting court. And this time it felt a bit more appropriate because we’ll soon be on our way (in place, if not in time) to the real England! I even got called onstage to embarrass myself by acting like a trained lion jumping through hoops during the aerial silks show.

For me, the closing Pub Sing remains the element that would make the Sterling Renaissance Festival worth attending, even if every other performance, vendor, and historic building disappeared. It seems that finally the “secret” may be out; in earlier years, so few guests remained (with the majority flooding for the gates once the final joust completed) that it essentially felt like the actors and musicians were singing and telling stories purely for their own entertainment. Well, it still seems like that’s what they’re doing, except now there was a good-sized audience around to feel the same spirit and joy wash over themselves too, as the sun goes down behind the leafy trees of Warwick, 500 years before it will rise again in our own time.

On our way out and changing back into our cycling clothes, it was gratifying to have a few cast members and vendors genuinely thank us for our participation, and, finally have the opportunity to break character and ask us about our travels. One thing I had forgotten is how these people are “our people” in more than just the “dressing up and going back in time” way. Of all the people in the world, they are among the closest (even more than most bike tourers) to understanding our long-term nomadic lifestyle. Because many of them also live the same way, traveling from Faire to Faire year-round as different locations around the country rotate into season. Now, I wonder if any of them make those travels by bicycle…?

One of the workers recommended an alternate set of Lake Ontario bluffs to watch the sunset, and was even able to report that a shortcut I’d been looking at from there to our State Park campground might be doable (he also thought there was a decent chance we’d be allowed to camp onsite where the nomadic workers stay too). With the sun going down, we conservatively decided to take the “safe” route (and the “safe” campground!), but it was a tough, hilly, 7 miles, twice as long as the shortcut would have been, and that’s even before we spun on to the grocery into the town of Fair Haven, only to find it closed.

The Fair Haven campground office was also closed, so we just proceeded to our site, up on the Bluff Loop, two miles further down (er, up) the road, and I got the tent set up as dusk drew down and the fireflies lit up. It felt a little strange to be packed in a nearly-full campground, with RVs and kids and dogs (and water and electric at our site). Yeah, it’s been 15 months since we’ve camped in an (American-style) campground!

Days 2 and 3

37.2 mi / 9.3 mph / 2449 ft. climbing
Home: Ken’s House

We stayed for two night’s at Fair Haven, partly because the Festival day was a really long day, but mostly because Fair Haven has a long Harms Family history as a getaway spot. Ken, who is loath to travel anywhere these days, almost talked himself into making a trip there with us (and Sophie), in a moment of weakness when he was waxing nostalgic. The main activity was to stumble down a treacherous path from the Bluff Loop, somehow carrying a cooler full of drinks, chairs, inflatable water toys, and small dogs, and then cross a long rocky beach before settling into their “secret” spot far away from the massively-crowded “official” beach on the west side of the bluffs.

Of course we tried our best to carry on the tradition, but we lacked almost all of the entertainment items, so it was a poor facsimile. Our walk down and back up was quite a bit easier at least!

We spent most of the afternoon just relaxing back at our campsite, doing a form of “camping” that we rarely do, where moving on (or planning how to move on) isn’t the main activity for the day.

The next morning’s rain held off, so we had a relaxed breakfast and exit from the park. The headwind that had fought us on the way north had completely flipped around to fight us from the south on the way home, but either that wasn’t as bad as the forecast either, or our northward battle had made us used to it? There is a rail trail that aims in an almost-perfect line from Fair Haven towards Skaneateles. Reports indicated it was in pretty bad shape, but with the number of hills it cuts through, it could still be worth it for us. We tried a section, and while it was certainly bumpy, our big tires were able to handle it. But it dragged our speed down to well under 10mph, and when the huge muddy puddles appeared, we decided to abandon the route. Which added more distance and an extra hill vs. if we’d just stayed on the roads to begin with. Well, now we know at least.

We stopped at the Craic House Pub in a historic building in the small Erie Canal town of Jordan for lunch, but it turns out they didn’t do food. They recommended “Peace Love Coffee” across the street (also in a historic building), but the people in the Pub were so friendly (and we wanted beer) that we brought our sandwiches back over. Also it felt good to patronize 50% of the downtown businesses in Jordan!

The climb up from the canal to Skaneateles was a brutal finish (and a big reason why we’d stopped to fuel up), but we were energized for the last couple miles by a couple unlikely chats at the bottom of the Skaneateles Nature Trail: first, an early-retired Trump fan who had swum both ways across Lake Owasco as a kid, and then a young endurance athlete/adventurer currently debating a conventional life path vs. a seasonal work/play schedule (a lifestyle we saw many examples of in South America)…and now, maybe early retirement too? Skaneateles contains multitudes!