The following words and pictures were written and created by my friend and fellow Vespa rider, Andy Heckathorne. His winter ride experiences offer vicarious adventure as I sit at home with a hot cup of tea.
Steve Williams
In Trying Times, I Need to Ride.
I need the thrill of exploration and the shock of freezing temperatures. I need the healing sounds of a mountain stream. I need to face the winter sun and see the hot pink behind closed eyes. And I need to feel the sun on my face. I need a winter ride.
Passing unknown friends during a winter ride with a wave of unity, embracing my tribe of “Fellow Travelers,” I feel at home. My senses sharpen as I scan the monochromatic landscape craving color and gratitude, and finally finding both. I need the hours of solitude a ride can provide where I can reflect on the gifts I’ve been given in life and ponder the who I want to be in this world.
Head Northwest, Young Man.
A silver lining to travel restrictions during the pandemic has been the accumulation of vacation days in my job at Penn State. I’ve hit the “use it or lose it” status at various times over the past few months, and it’s a welcome treat to have some extra days to hop on the Vespa and do some exploring.
I’ve noticed a trend in the photographs I’ve been taking during these adventures: there are a lot of bridge pictures. Perhaps it’s their aesthetic nature that captivates me. Or fascination with their design and construction. I’m inspired by the ingenuity and manpower it takes to build them. Bridges form connections and when crossing one I’m offered a unique view and perspective.
Bridges.
I first crossed this steel truss bridge this past summer. It spans the West Branch of the Susquehanna River and I decided to visit it again. Railroad tracks run parallel to the river north from Karthus to Renovo. Watching the river flow by my wanderlust is triggered as I imagine following all the way to the Chesapeake Bay. I enjoy daydreams of riding adventures.
Traveling to Karthaus in January was different than the same trek in July. It was a gray gloomy day, and a significant amount of snow was still on the ground, left over from a major December storm. The roads were clear and dry, with the exception of an occasional snowdrift or water flowing off the hills and across the roads. These dangers can sneak up on me fast, and seem to jump out just as I crest a hill or enter a blind curve. I compensate by riding more slowly than usual, and I’ve noticed my “rider’s intuition” seems to be improving.
I hope so. It’s almost as if I’m beginning to sense when and where these pitfalls will appear. All it would take is one fall to do serious injury and damage. Keeping that in mind helps me stay alert.
Thoughts of riding safety share space in my consciousness with the Latin phrase Memento Mori, “remember you must die.” Embracing this idea actually gives me freedom to live my life more fully and seek to balance it knowing my life has significance and worth to those who depend on me and love me.
So ride I must. But carefully.
Summer View of River and Bridge.
As I approached my destination, I quickly realized that one of my goals would not come to fruition. I had hoped to replicate summer photos I’d taken of the bridge, highlighting the differences in the landscape during the winter season. One photo was taken at a boat launch, about a quarter mile upstream. The short winding road down to the launch was now completely snowed in, and a gate blocked the entrance.
Undeterred, I parked the Vespa and made my way down on foot. It was then that I realized my July view had been aided by a dry summer. The water level in the Susquehanna had been quite low, allowing me to walk out a considerable distance on the rocky riverbed. Now, the river was deep. The same rocks I’d climbed over were completely submerged. I’d have to hike along the riverbank through snow back towards the bridge to even catch a glimpse of it.
High Water in Winter.
After capturing several images, I made my way back to the Vespa and headed across the bridge. I worked up quite a sweat wearing my thick winter gear.
Now the cold air felt good.
I’d brought my tripod and Fujifilm XT-10 digital camera along for the ride. Since I generally ride alone, and aside from an occasional selfie, I don’t have too many photos of myself out and about. It’s a bit of an odd feeling to ride quite frequently but not have a good sense of what you look like when doing so.
I set up a few different shots near the bridge and have settled on the image below as the one I like best.
Self-portrait.
As I packed up the tripod and camera, a few guys on ATVs passed by, slowing out of curiosity to see what I was up to. They probably don’t see too many Vespa scooters here, let alone in the dead of winter. They disappeared around the bend and headed northward up the hill. This was the same direction I wanted to explore.
My curiosity of sights downstream beckoned.
I followed the route taken by the ATVs and soon found myself heading up a road covered in snow and ice. I slowed to a snail’s pace and did my best to guide the Vespa along the tire tracks left by 4-wheeled vehicles. If I was going to slip and go down, it would be at single-digit speeds.
I reached the paved summit and parked. The road curled around the hill and headed down the other side without going all the way to the top. It occurred to me that I might be able to get a great view of the river and possibly the bridge if I set out on foot and hiked the last bit on foot. As I grabbed the camera from under the seat, a couple guys in a pickup truck stopped by to check on me. Most people I encounter in these situations are quite friendly and often check to see if all is well. I gave them a thumbs up and held up my camera as they rolled down the window.
Keep the Tires on that Sliver of Road.
“Are you here to take pictures of the elk?” they asked.
“I was just looking to gets some photos of the river and the bridge,” I replied. I didn’t realize elk could be seen around here.
We finished the conversation, and I headed up the hill as they drove away. I turned the camera on and switched the automatic setting to “sport mode.” I wanted to be ready. What if we came face to face? My thoughts turned to a viral video of “When Animals Attack.” The unforgettable promo showed a white-tailed deer attacking some helpless soul with its forelegs…charging and lunging and kicking…do elk do that to humans?
I reached the top and took in the panoramic view.
Wow.
The river was a jade green color and twisted and turned as far as the eye could see. I breathed in the fresh air and slowly caught my breath.
Breathless on a Winter Ride.
Soon I went back down the hill and climbed aboard the Vespa and headed home. The mild growl of the engine and the sound of the wind rushing against my helmet formed a cocoon in which I can be alone with my thoughts.
A sense of fulfillment and contentedness accompanied me as I replayed the past few hours. It was the feeling I’d been searching for. But which part of the day contained the magic ingredient? Was it the rush of cold air or the exercise of hiking through snow? Or maybe the challenge of riding on winter roads? Or perhaps the magic lives in the beauty of the landscape and the creative energy generated to frame and capture my experience?
As I neared home, I made another observation: the summoning of comfort and familiarity, anxiously anticipating a hot cup of tea, a blanket, and the recliner by the fire. I couldn’t wait to get back to the place that had held me captive just hours before.
The script had been flipped.
Amazing what a simple winter ride can do.
Oh, great-great-great observations (and photos!) here. Andy, like you, Steve, is lucky to be in such a wonderful place in PA. It’s also nice to know that I’m not the only crazy git with a Vespa braving Winter (though I don’t do much snowy riding now). As to his question about which part of the ride held the “magic” bit, I’d counter that all the elements add up to what I think of as the gestalt of the experience…that one element minus the others ends up diminished. The roads taken, the people met along the way, the hoofing-it off the bike for a better/closer look at something–it all adds up. And, yes, the ride home, in anticipation of the personal-known comforts that await.
And, yes, memento mori. Eventually, we die. For now, however, let’s truly live.
Andy did make some great observations on his ride. I was struck by the notion of his state of mind being flipped at the end of the essay. Made me think of how often that has happened with my own riding experiences but I hadn’t thought of it in that manner.
And memento mori… let’s get to the business of living!
Thank you for the kind words! Living in central Pennsylvania has truly been a gift, and I’m thankful for the friendships that have been brought about by way of life on two wheels.
I appreciate and wholeheartedly agree with your additional thoughts on where the magic lies when we ride, and have no doubt this bears out in your adventures in the city as well. I always enjoy reading your tales aboard Melody, and hope to do some city riding of my own in the coming year!
Nice piece Andy, I love that area in Shawville, your pic shows how clean the West Branch river is, the blue hue water showed up, Just like Steve, the photos are clear. Brave man riding ice. I remember seeing Steve riding his first Vespa,on ice coming out of Boalsburg,both basketball legs extended with his boots lightly skimming ice covered roadway.
In my other life, Late 60’s early 70’s we take our motocross bikes up in that area ride all day in the coal “stripen’s” . Now i’m in the late 60’s age, we canoe down the west branch every april.
Where did our youth go Mike ??!!
Hi Mike, it sounds like you have some wonderful memories in that area. I’d like to do more exploring there and further north towards Benezette.
When I visited Karthaus this past summer I noticed a sign near the boat launch that included a map of the river, where to put in and get out, as well as a warning of rapids. I do some kayaking and might like to return at some point and give it a try, minus the rapids! It’s good to know you do just fine in a canoe.
Steve’s love for winter riding and his cautious approach have definitely had a positive influence on me. I’ve tried his “skimming” approach as well but doubt it’s as effective for those of us who aren’t as tall as he is!
I can get things off of high shelves too!
Ha!
There is a downside though — I continually bang my head on stuff, especially in basements.
Wow Andy what an adventure you took me on…..Gotta say not wild about the road conditions. Here in Texas a few weeks ago measured about 7.5 inches of snowfall. Was in the mid 80’s since that had happened around here. Big train stuff guy so loved the railroad track shot.I often go sit and wait for a train to roll through my little town of Clifton,Texas. Serenity is where we find it I guess..Thanks Andy and Steve as always for bringing Beautiful Pennsylvania to us..Happy Happy Trails to all.☮
Hey Don, great hearing from you. I have a friend who lives not far from you in Clifton and noticed his big snow photos a couple weeks ago. Jumping back to 80°F is quite a swing in weather conditions!
I had a grandfather who spent a good many years after WW2 working on the railroad north of Pittsburgh. Hearing some of his stories by way of my father have given me an appreciation of the railroad, too.
I really enjoyed reading this son.
Thank you–I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope all this talk of adventure on two wheels has convinced you to trade in the Camry for a Vespa!
Perhaps if if I were a bit younger. 😉
Thanks for sharing your story. I took a ride the other day on MY Vespa and it was very COLD. I don’t do much winter riding for that reason. Was happy also to get home and put something warm on my tongue and in my stomach. Have a great day. Karl Stumpf
You know, Karl, In years past I’d read Steve’s blog and hear him mention what it was like to acclimate to the cold. I’m not sure why, but don’t think I ever experienced it fully until this year. As a result, I’ve been wearing a sweatshirt to walk the dog, even with temps in the 20’s. Kind of a nice upside!
All that being said, sign me up anytime for a warm meal near the fireplace!
I believe the first photo is of the bridge over Little Fishing Creek at the entrance to Krislund Church Camp on route 4459?). I crossed that bridge many times since 1972 as it was rebuilt after the big flood that year. II worked there during my time as a Penn Stater. Having been a transplanted Blue & White guy of 41 years in Happy Valley first as a student and then as a Penn State employee (OPP-FRC) now retired and living the good life in Myrtle Beach area since 2011. Love to read your blog and try to figure out where all your photos were taken. Been a loyal viewer since your first blog was brought to my attention by old friend John Yingling in the School of Communications office in Carnegie Building. Please keep them coming as they are the remedy for my bouts of yearning for my riding days and nights in your riding area.
You’re right Stewart — it is the bridge at Krislund Camp. It’s a nice stretch of road there from Lamar to Madisonburg.
You and I must have crossed paths at some point at Penn State. I was a student in 1972 in the spring. Had to brave the aftermath of Hurricane Agnes to get to campus. And I worked there for almost 43 years. Most of it in Ag and I spent more than a few hours making photos at FRC.
Not sure I know John Yingling. So many people at Penn State.
Myrtle Beach sounds good right now. Snow continues to fall here.
I’ll keep posting and sharing pictures for you to try and figure out where they were made! Thanks for commenting and checking in.
Great call on identifying the bridge, Stewart. Your years away in Myrtle Beach have certainly not dampened your memory. It’s always great connecting with another Penn Stater!
I have ridden through Karthaus many times over the years but never during this time of the year. I have not stopped as Driftwood has become a go to lunch/break pause. Judging by your pics the main roads look bare and the secondary and wee roads looking daunting at best and quite the challenge. The low pov looking back down the icy trough at the Vespa strikes effective wonder. I rarely get out for winter rides these days though when I do the rewards are invigorating to say the very least. I won’t ride through Karthaus and environs again without thinking of your images. 👍
Steve, you’re exactly right about the weather conditions that day: the main roads were about 98% clear, and the secondary roads…not so much. I don’t believe I’ve been through Driftwood, which further illustrates how much territory there is to explore here in Pennsylvania. Thank you for the kind words regarding my photography, I appreciate the opportunity to share them with you. Be safe out there!