Thick, gray clouds and 62-degree air welcomed me to the road on Saturday morning. With a light rain jacket stowed beneath the seat and three cameras in the rear bag I left the house thinking about photographs. It didn’t take long until I was thinking about being alone.
My head fills with chatter by the end of the workweek often leading to a muddy view of things. Riding alone is one of the reliable methods of draining it away and leaving me with a clean perspective. I saw a picture recently on Jack Riepe’s Twisted Throttle blog of an Etch-A-Sketch that he suggested was a GPS unit belonging to a friend. When I saw it and remembered how elegantly those little devices could be made clean again with just a few shakes I realized a solitary ride through the countryside works the same magic for me. I’m grateful I don’t require anything more drastic.
Central Pennsylvania is blessed with secondary secondary roads. Roads that in the height of use have little traffic and allow for leisurely rides and extra attention on the landscape. Seeing the yellow lines disappear in the distance always gives me a little rush even though I know what’s out there.
The steel bridge is gated and locked and leads into land owned by the Pennsylvania Bureau of Corrections. Rockview State Penitentiary in this case. A deal is underway to transfer ownership of a huge tract of land to Penn State and the local community. Someday I hope to see this bridge open so I can explore what lies beyond.
By the time I was moving through Fisherman’s Paradise and heading towards Bellefonte I was in the flow with a clear head and thinking about breakfast. Aside from a few ducks and the occasional trout fisherman I had the place largely to myself.
I stopped at Cool Beans in Bellefonte for a bite to eat and the chance to make a few notes. While there I had the chance to eavesdrop on a man and woman, both around 40, who appeared to be meeting for the first time after some sort of Internet dating connection. I found myself wishing my hearing was sharper as I picked up fragments of their conversation. It was all about marketing and positioning as they closed a deal to meet again.
Draining the last of my double Bergamot tea it was time to head into town to buy some film and developer. I did manage to expose a roll of film in the Mamiya 7 with the panorama adapter inside and may find time to get into the darkroom again.
Another ride alone on the Vespa worked its magic.
When I was employed as the instructional materials consultant for one of the Toronto area school boards by the end of the week my brain was fried. One of the many reasons then, I continued riding a motorcycle and sidecar.
Glad the process still works, for you.
And in my past travels (before 2001)
to your home state the myriad small well-maintained rural roads were a delight.
Those days for me are long gone. There are times wish I was
physically smaller to be able to fit on a Vespa or any scooter or new motorcycle for that matter.
NOthing like the small rural roads to clear your mind, charge your batteries and re-kindle your soul…Love the pictures and the story…you should stop listening in on people’s conversations…could be embarrassing…lol…great post.
Gee! Bryce and Baron’s Life want to talk about riding.
I want to hear more about the Mamaya 7! It makes me want to get the Hasselblad out and shoot some film!
Brent
I love your wide angle shots like the top one. They’re really great.
Bryce: A fried brain is just no fun but does respond well to riding as you point out.
I thought about you the other day when I was in the Creamery on campus and was standing behind a couple Penn State basketball players. I see what you mean about having trouble on a scooter. Or finding shoes.
Baron’s Life: I just wish my ears were better!
Brent: I’ll post sometime soon about riding with the Mamiya 7. It’s a camera I have warmed to slowly.
Kelsey: Thanks for your kind words.
You are lucky to have so many nice small road with no traffic ! Unfortunately we have too much traffic in my country (Italy, the country of Vespa!) and for this reason I’m just a “virtual” motocyclist ! But I follow your blog…
robert blu (from RFF)