Thursday, May 9, 2013
Sunset
Gnats could not keep me from the first perfect weather night on the porch. Fire bled through the trees as the sun curtseyed to the rising moon. It is time to ride!
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
December 3 & 4
A weather forecast for a balmy September day put us back on the road in December. Jules put hunting on the back burner as we plucked what could be the last fruit of our bountiful year on Magic.
A post-lunch departure gave us a limited amount of daylight to burn, but we fired it up and headed toward Delaware. After crossing the bridge, we followed the river to the bay along Route 9. The Augustine Wildlife Area is always beautiful. I love the tidal water that leaks onto this road to remind us that we are only visitors here. For a short time, the bay and the ocean have allowed us to share their space, but as we all have witnessed, nothing here is permanent.
At this time of year, 4:30 is the new 8:00 and it was dark by the time we pulled into Georgetown, DE. Out of season, the town is closed up - except for a town square Christmas Concert. In 60 degree weather we cruised past winter scenes and Christmas lights, listening to Carols. We were riding in an oxymoron. Our too short day came to an end here as we realized that warm weather doesn't make the day last any longer in December.
Awake early, we were excited that our riding threshold of 50 degrees had already been met. Cloudy wintry skies belied a balmy departure from Georgetown that orbited us into another reprieve from winter. Down 113 to 20, into Ocean City, MD. Tall condos stood inviting tenants, but the city was empty. We crossed the Assawoman Bay (I love the name) back to the mainland, then down to Assateague State Park.
Abandoned by summer-fickle vacationers, we found a paradise just for us. Protected by dunes, we basked in the sun, watching half-horses watch us. Jules built a fire and we had a "pre-picnic". I could have stayed forever. But then, winter is coming ...
We headed out and around, twisting and turning to make the day last. Stumbling on Trap Pond State Park, we again found peace in winter that summer would never allow. Sitting by the lake in a jumble of a hundred picnic tables, we sat alone and watched heron and geese try to get along.
Shadows lengthened and it was sadly time to move on. The rest of our trip was a race to beat the sundown, the cold, the deer and the impending rain. Sunset over Route 1 was as beautiful as anywhere and I turned my face into the wind. On the highway, as we sped home, I once again realized why dogs stick their heads out of the window! The wind in your face is all you need.
In these two days, I have been given the gift of a summer that never seems to end. What more can I ask...
A post-lunch departure gave us a limited amount of daylight to burn, but we fired it up and headed toward Delaware. After crossing the bridge, we followed the river to the bay along Route 9. The Augustine Wildlife Area is always beautiful. I love the tidal water that leaks onto this road to remind us that we are only visitors here. For a short time, the bay and the ocean have allowed us to share their space, but as we all have witnessed, nothing here is permanent.
At this time of year, 4:30 is the new 8:00 and it was dark by the time we pulled into Georgetown, DE. Out of season, the town is closed up - except for a town square Christmas Concert. In 60 degree weather we cruised past winter scenes and Christmas lights, listening to Carols. We were riding in an oxymoron. Our too short day came to an end here as we realized that warm weather doesn't make the day last any longer in December.
Awake early, we were excited that our riding threshold of 50 degrees had already been met. Cloudy wintry skies belied a balmy departure from Georgetown that orbited us into another reprieve from winter. Down 113 to 20, into Ocean City, MD. Tall condos stood inviting tenants, but the city was empty. We crossed the Assawoman Bay (I love the name) back to the mainland, then down to Assateague State Park.
Abandoned by summer-fickle vacationers, we found a paradise just for us. Protected by dunes, we basked in the sun, watching half-horses watch us. Jules built a fire and we had a "pre-picnic". I could have stayed forever. But then, winter is coming ...
We headed out and around, twisting and turning to make the day last. Stumbling on Trap Pond State Park, we again found peace in winter that summer would never allow. Sitting by the lake in a jumble of a hundred picnic tables, we sat alone and watched heron and geese try to get along.
Shadows lengthened and it was sadly time to move on. The rest of our trip was a race to beat the sundown, the cold, the deer and the impending rain. Sunset over Route 1 was as beautiful as anywhere and I turned my face into the wind. On the highway, as we sped home, I once again realized why dogs stick their heads out of the window! The wind in your face is all you need.
In these two days, I have been given the gift of a summer that never seems to end. What more can I ask...
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Full Circle - August 26
We are home.
At Mink Pond, a tearful, joyful reunion with the rowdy entourage that is our family made the descent into reality very palatable. Then to be joined by our nephew and great friends was the icing on the cake. Fishing, shooting clays, listening to night songs on the porch and watching shooting stars, we slowly melted into our former life. And best of all, Winnie, our grand daughter of a year and a half, remembered us and can now say our names.
Two days off the bike and we were ready to ride again. Down the mountain and through the Delaware Water Gap, Magic remembered the beautiful River Road that she has run so often and treated it with the same respect that she has afforded every turn on our trip. There were roads we liked better than others, but there were no bad rides.
Music matched our moods as "Bittersweet Symphony" played. We rode through New Hope, past hundreds of bikes parked at bars, and maybe we felt a little smug because of all we had seen and done.
On the road, we met people who were riding from corner to corner ...the northernmost point of Alaska to the southernmost point of South America that is road worthy. So in the realm of extreme motorcycling, we are small change. But we have taken those pennies, nickels and dimes and used them well. I think we are allowed, at least, some pride. We turned 60 and 66 on the road, and are talking about the next trip.
Toward the end of our adventure, Jules and I had a heady conversation about how everything has to end. We will ride soon (maybe next week), but the overtone was obvious. This is the journey we took ... the trip of our lifetime. But coming home to our children and grandchild we know that all the trips in life that we have taken will blossom into others with different settings and new characters. The theme will remain the same.
Thank you all for coming with us.
At Mink Pond, a tearful, joyful reunion with the rowdy entourage that is our family made the descent into reality very palatable. Then to be joined by our nephew and great friends was the icing on the cake. Fishing, shooting clays, listening to night songs on the porch and watching shooting stars, we slowly melted into our former life. And best of all, Winnie, our grand daughter of a year and a half, remembered us and can now say our names.
Two days off the bike and we were ready to ride again. Down the mountain and through the Delaware Water Gap, Magic remembered the beautiful River Road that she has run so often and treated it with the same respect that she has afforded every turn on our trip. There were roads we liked better than others, but there were no bad rides.
Music matched our moods as "Bittersweet Symphony" played. We rode through New Hope, past hundreds of bikes parked at bars, and maybe we felt a little smug because of all we had seen and done.
On the road, we met people who were riding from corner to corner ...the northernmost point of Alaska to the southernmost point of South America that is road worthy. So in the realm of extreme motorcycling, we are small change. But we have taken those pennies, nickels and dimes and used them well. I think we are allowed, at least, some pride. We turned 60 and 66 on the road, and are talking about the next trip.
Toward the end of our adventure, Jules and I had a heady conversation about how everything has to end. We will ride soon (maybe next week), but the overtone was obvious. This is the journey we took ... the trip of our lifetime. But coming home to our children and grandchild we know that all the trips in life that we have taken will blossom into others with different settings and new characters. The theme will remain the same.
Thank you all for coming with us.
Day 60 August 22
Symbolically, our sixty days have ended in Coudersport, PA.
Highway from Ohio, then onto 62 once we crossed the state line. Familiar scenes rekindled my respect for this state. The roads we ran were heavily wooded and took us over and around the Allegheny Mountains and down into valleys as we skirted the river. Together we watched as blue herons and ducks entertained us at our picnic on lake Wilhelm in Goddard State Park.
Hermitage, PA, offered a unique attraction. Seeing a sign for The Avenue of 444 Flags, we were drawn into the town. An impressive driveway into the Hillcrest Memorial Park hosts 444 American flags, many with names and pictures of veterans buried there. Why 444? The idea for the avenue was conceived during the Iran hostage crisis in 1979. A flag was flown for every day that the Americans were in captivity. An impressive patriotic display commemorating a difficult moment in America's history, we were silent with emotion.
We turned east on 666, which I have named the "devil road". The last time we rode here, it was pouring and potholes and cracks in the asphalt tried us at every turn. Today , an improved road, dappled with bright sun gave us a sweet ride. Through elk country, we saw only one deer watching us from the woods and two dead land urchins on the road.
We ended our day on route 6, a favorite of motorcyclists. Perfect weather and a road that kept giving saw us riding later than usual. We did not want day 60 to end.
A few days retreat at Mink Pond in the Poconos , where we will reunite with our family, and then home. That will be the actual end to this journey.
Every day on the road has been a celebration of life. Wind in our faces, highway under our wheels and God's Country at each turn, gifts were given that have no price. For sixty days Jules and I have been attached to each other on Magic as we soared through a lifetime of experience as one. Never closer, our time riding America has given us the greatest gift of all . . . each other.
Highway from Ohio, then onto 62 once we crossed the state line. Familiar scenes rekindled my respect for this state. The roads we ran were heavily wooded and took us over and around the Allegheny Mountains and down into valleys as we skirted the river. Together we watched as blue herons and ducks entertained us at our picnic on lake Wilhelm in Goddard State Park.
Hermitage, PA, offered a unique attraction. Seeing a sign for The Avenue of 444 Flags, we were drawn into the town. An impressive driveway into the Hillcrest Memorial Park hosts 444 American flags, many with names and pictures of veterans buried there. Why 444? The idea for the avenue was conceived during the Iran hostage crisis in 1979. A flag was flown for every day that the Americans were in captivity. An impressive patriotic display commemorating a difficult moment in America's history, we were silent with emotion.
We turned east on 666, which I have named the "devil road". The last time we rode here, it was pouring and potholes and cracks in the asphalt tried us at every turn. Today , an improved road, dappled with bright sun gave us a sweet ride. Through elk country, we saw only one deer watching us from the woods and two dead land urchins on the road.
We ended our day on route 6, a favorite of motorcyclists. Perfect weather and a road that kept giving saw us riding later than usual. We did not want day 60 to end.
A few days retreat at Mink Pond in the Poconos , where we will reunite with our family, and then home. That will be the actual end to this journey.
Every day on the road has been a celebration of life. Wind in our faces, highway under our wheels and God's Country at each turn, gifts were given that have no price. For sixty days Jules and I have been attached to each other on Magic as we soared through a lifetime of experience as one. Never closer, our time riding America has given us the greatest gift of all . . . each other.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Indian Summer 11/12/12
When it is sixty degrees in November, Nature has handed you one more chance to ride and we welcomed the gift.
Not every time we swing our legs over the bike do we travel great distances to unknown places. Today we rode on Indian Summer country roads, blanketed with yellow leaves. Past farmland and grassy marshes, we wound our way to Greenwich, NJ for what could be the last picnic of the season. Sheltered from wind and warmed by the water, we lunched by the Delaware Bay. Our companions were hawks and osprey. Such peace and solitude aptly lulled us from an adventurous summer and a tumultuous fall into a drowsy state of total relaxation.
Our lunch was long and our time alone together invaluable. Back on the bike, we rode to the edge of the bay. Weather damage was apparent everywhere and sea grass and sand covered the road. The contrast between the destruction of the storm and the beauty of the day was sadly ironic.
As we headed home, the shortened day lengthened our shadows way too soon. Hopefully there will be other riding days before the spring, and if not, we have all that was today to take us through the winter.
The Epic named Sandy humbled us all beyond imagination. Nature showed us her evil side and powered us into submission. Then on a random Monday in November, gold blooms on blue skies and the sun warms away the knots in your shoulders. It's almost like an apology . . . and I accept!
Not every time we swing our legs over the bike do we travel great distances to unknown places. Today we rode on Indian Summer country roads, blanketed with yellow leaves. Past farmland and grassy marshes, we wound our way to Greenwich, NJ for what could be the last picnic of the season. Sheltered from wind and warmed by the water, we lunched by the Delaware Bay. Our companions were hawks and osprey. Such peace and solitude aptly lulled us from an adventurous summer and a tumultuous fall into a drowsy state of total relaxation.
Our lunch was long and our time alone together invaluable. Back on the bike, we rode to the edge of the bay. Weather damage was apparent everywhere and sea grass and sand covered the road. The contrast between the destruction of the storm and the beauty of the day was sadly ironic.
As we headed home, the shortened day lengthened our shadows way too soon. Hopefully there will be other riding days before the spring, and if not, we have all that was today to take us through the winter.
The Epic named Sandy humbled us all beyond imagination. Nature showed us her evil side and powered us into submission. Then on a random Monday in November, gold blooms on blue skies and the sun warms away the knots in your shoulders. It's almost like an apology . . . and I accept!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Epilogue - Day 1 - August 23
Still having a big chunk of Pennsylvania to cross, we left out of a motel for the last of 60 nights. Routine has taught us to work as a team in packing out and up. I get the wine and the food, Jules the IPads and chargers. Packing our clothes has a routine too and "sweeping the room" for the missed article is my job. We snap the suitcase on the tour pack, put on Chapstick and take off.
This morning, our faces warmed by the promise of a perfect day, we rode east on route 6. Into Central Pennsylvania, Magic, Jules and I eased out of the Alleghenies and followed our route to the Grand Canyon.
There is one in PA also known as the Pine Creek Gorge in the Tioga State Forest, and it is quite impressive in its own right. Finding the West Rim road with scant signage, we ascended into Colton State Park. A road like we haven't seen since Colorado, treated us to a memorable ride. Breathless views down a deep ravine reminded us that beauty lives here, too.
At our picnic for the day, the sun prompted Jules to get a full body tan.
Through Wellsboro, one of many towns on this route with Victorian architecture that dominates main streets, we passed the World Famous Wellsboro Diner. So sad we weren't ready for a great piece of pie, we moved on.
Our path drew us into city life as Scranton loomed. Sucked in by poor road signs, we found ourselves looking for Dunder Mifflin and seeing the characters from "The Office" on every street corner. Finally extracting ourselves, we headed to the highway to make it home.
Yes, we are home tonight at Mink Pond, my refuge since I was three. Familiar and welcoming, we drove into its arms as dinner was being served. A night on the lake offered up a nice bass for Jules and a sense of peace and stability for me.
Tonight we sleep in beds we know and through our open window owls, bullfrogs and an occasional coyote welcome us. Tomorrow our family arrives to complete the picture.
Fragments fly through my head at random moments, shocking with weather worn switchbacks having no guardrails or soothing with gentle streams cooling my feet at a noonday picnic. Then the sunsets and sunrises bloom and the fragments form into a whole- our odyssey on which we searched for nothing, expected little and were handed the world.
This morning, our faces warmed by the promise of a perfect day, we rode east on route 6. Into Central Pennsylvania, Magic, Jules and I eased out of the Alleghenies and followed our route to the Grand Canyon.
There is one in PA also known as the Pine Creek Gorge in the Tioga State Forest, and it is quite impressive in its own right. Finding the West Rim road with scant signage, we ascended into Colton State Park. A road like we haven't seen since Colorado, treated us to a memorable ride. Breathless views down a deep ravine reminded us that beauty lives here, too.
At our picnic for the day, the sun prompted Jules to get a full body tan.
Through Wellsboro, one of many towns on this route with Victorian architecture that dominates main streets, we passed the World Famous Wellsboro Diner. So sad we weren't ready for a great piece of pie, we moved on.
Our path drew us into city life as Scranton loomed. Sucked in by poor road signs, we found ourselves looking for Dunder Mifflin and seeing the characters from "The Office" on every street corner. Finally extracting ourselves, we headed to the highway to make it home.
Yes, we are home tonight at Mink Pond, my refuge since I was three. Familiar and welcoming, we drove into its arms as dinner was being served. A night on the lake offered up a nice bass for Jules and a sense of peace and stability for me.
Tonight we sleep in beds we know and through our open window owls, bullfrogs and an occasional coyote welcome us. Tomorrow our family arrives to complete the picture.
Fragments fly through my head at random moments, shocking with weather worn switchbacks having no guardrails or soothing with gentle streams cooling my feet at a noonday picnic. Then the sunsets and sunrises bloom and the fragments form into a whole- our odyssey on which we searched for nothing, expected little and were handed the world.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Day 59 August 21
Indiana was an afterthought as we followed the morning sun into Ohio.
After pausing in Fort Wayne to let some weather get ahead of us, we set out. The historic route for the day was the Lincoln Highway. The first transcontinental automobile road, it was conceived in the early 1900's. Today's piece was route 30. Past towns small and large, we rode through the wide girth of fat Ohio. Warm and clear, the weather was our friend.
Mile after mile of corn, soybeans and dairy added patina to this flat landscape. Every fifty miles or so a curve and a rise in the road would wake us. At a rest stop for lunch, Jules tried to light a fire, but everything was too wet. Just days ago where we stopped, fire bans had been in place for months. The variations in weather and climate in the past 60 days have taken us through all the seasons.
The daily storm clouds built up in our path, growing darker by the mile. Sprinkles of rain put us under an overpass suiting up. Wise choice because immediately the rain fell hard. Hunched down behind the windshield we weathered the thankfully short storm and soon were folding our rain gear into the saddle bags. Then for the rest of the day, we rode in sun through rain drenched roads. Our luck with weather on this trip has been classic. No strangers to rainy rides, we expect the worst. But nothing but the best has been handed to us.
In the process of robing and disrobing, Jules' second pair of riding glasses on this trip broke. Finding the nearest Harley dealer to buy another pair, we rode into Mansfield. Situated overlooking the Mansfield Reformatory, we had a lesson in cinematographic history. The setting of the "Shawshank Redemption", the architectural beauty of the building belied the inner truths. A new prison stands nearby. Barbed with wire and utilitarian in design it is honest in its presentation.
Off the Lincoln Highway, we tracked into rural Ohio. Stopping at a small local market, people walked off their jobs to talk to us. They wanted to know about us and were amazed we were from New Jersey. When they heard the whole story, amazement gave way to disbelief. Traveling is a gift that is not given to all, and again I feel so fortunate.
On the border of Pennsylvania, we are almost home. The West has spoiled me. How can the Alleghenies compete with the Rockies? Flat land dominates! Where are the switchbacks and the altitudes with views that deprive you of breath?
Yet, there is a height and a depth of that place we call home that has nothing to do with geography. It is the landscape of our lives, and it surpasses all others.
After pausing in Fort Wayne to let some weather get ahead of us, we set out. The historic route for the day was the Lincoln Highway. The first transcontinental automobile road, it was conceived in the early 1900's. Today's piece was route 30. Past towns small and large, we rode through the wide girth of fat Ohio. Warm and clear, the weather was our friend.
Mile after mile of corn, soybeans and dairy added patina to this flat landscape. Every fifty miles or so a curve and a rise in the road would wake us. At a rest stop for lunch, Jules tried to light a fire, but everything was too wet. Just days ago where we stopped, fire bans had been in place for months. The variations in weather and climate in the past 60 days have taken us through all the seasons.
The daily storm clouds built up in our path, growing darker by the mile. Sprinkles of rain put us under an overpass suiting up. Wise choice because immediately the rain fell hard. Hunched down behind the windshield we weathered the thankfully short storm and soon were folding our rain gear into the saddle bags. Then for the rest of the day, we rode in sun through rain drenched roads. Our luck with weather on this trip has been classic. No strangers to rainy rides, we expect the worst. But nothing but the best has been handed to us.
In the process of robing and disrobing, Jules' second pair of riding glasses on this trip broke. Finding the nearest Harley dealer to buy another pair, we rode into Mansfield. Situated overlooking the Mansfield Reformatory, we had a lesson in cinematographic history. The setting of the "Shawshank Redemption", the architectural beauty of the building belied the inner truths. A new prison stands nearby. Barbed with wire and utilitarian in design it is honest in its presentation.
Off the Lincoln Highway, we tracked into rural Ohio. Stopping at a small local market, people walked off their jobs to talk to us. They wanted to know about us and were amazed we were from New Jersey. When they heard the whole story, amazement gave way to disbelief. Traveling is a gift that is not given to all, and again I feel so fortunate.
On the border of Pennsylvania, we are almost home. The West has spoiled me. How can the Alleghenies compete with the Rockies? Flat land dominates! Where are the switchbacks and the altitudes with views that deprive you of breath?
Yet, there is a height and a depth of that place we call home that has nothing to do with geography. It is the landscape of our lives, and it surpasses all others.
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