Lucking out in Lockport

It's been a while since we last spoke and, with great sadness, I must inform you that Precious suffered a puncture after 4,625 carefree miles.
If I remember rightly, we last met in Detroit.
Since then things have been pretty uneventful. Mostly in Canada.
There are several points of note for those whose lives would be meaningless without this blog. The first is the insane situation presented to a cyclist in Detroit. Detroit is separated fom Canada by a river, over which a bridge spans and under which a tunnel bores. Should you wish to cross the border you must use a form of transport with an engine. You can neither walk nor cycle across (I didn't ask about inline skates or skateboards). The mind boggles 'Why?' and it will continue to boggle because no matter how long you think about it, you will not be able to come up with a valid reason why that should be the case.
You will be forced to cycle a pleasant 40 miles north, alongside a lake and a river, and cross on a small ferry onto a Canadian Indian reservation.
As a small digression, did you know that the 1st of July is Canada Day, all together now, 'Oh Canada'.
This part of Canada, Southwestern Ontario, is littered with small towns named after locations in my youth. London, Tilbury, Chatham, Colchester, Maidstone. The counties are named Essex, Kent, Middlesex, Oxford and an unpredictable Elgin. The comforting place names ally with the flat, unobtrusive farming landscapes to send the mind into an uninspired auto pilot. The type of adjectives that spring to mind are forgettable, placid, apathetic.
Through this area runs the River Thames, who'd have thought it, which winds through a number of towns and, with the honourable exception of Woodstock, these towns don't quite work. I will return to London but not this one.
The closer you get to Lake Ontario, the better it gets. You can see Toronto from a surprisingly long way away, at least 30 miles, probably more. It's skyline haunts the Southwest corner of the lake and keeps you company when you first hit the ridge that brings the lake into view, in my case, Grimsby ON, until you leave it, in my case, Olcutt NY. The Canadian side of the lake greets the Niagara River with a lovely recreation trail along which you cycle next to the river. The US side bids farewell to the river, although you won't notice, obscured as it is from view by homes. The same goes for the lake. Disappointingly, US rivers and lakes are, generally speaking, private delights. Which is a huge shame. There are, usually, public access points that allow you to launch the boat but I would bet a great deal of money that lakes around which you could stroll in their entirety are very rare, if there are any.
Niagara Falls, visited as it was, on 4th July, remains an extremely busy tourist trap. As you'll find, the second time you visit can be a real chore although happily, it's a place that lends itself to walking. Again the Canadian side is preferable. The US side, I'm sorry to say is simply a slum. Why a bit more of an effort isn't made is beyond me but if you are going to separate humans from a natural beauty by placing a two lane highway in between, you get what you deserve.
The US side improves as you head North. Lewiston, particularly is a town worth the name and your time and money.
For the record, the 4th of July is a holiday in the U.S. and as a consequence of a thin supply of motels and hotels, the emergency tent was pressed into service. Vindictively, as Precious had to spend the night in the open air, the ensuing puncture was her way of evening the score. This is where the luck came in. Knackered by a restless night's sleep and distraught at the puncture, a quick glance at the map indicated a sizeable town south called Lockport. Hoping to find a bike shop you'll find instead a canal path that runs all the way to Albany. Most cyclists out there will tell you that canals are the bike routes par excellence. With the exception of the North of England (honourably excepted by a stretch between Leeds and Bradford/Saltaire) canals provide the cyclists with a perfect environment. There is no traffic and the only things you have to worry about are being hooked by a casting fishermen and whether you should stop at this lock or the next for a tea. The areas around towns can be a little busy but the stretches in between are usually deserted. You, the bike and the butterfly rule the roost.
The next two days will be spent by the canal, I may be some time.