Robert Pirsig, author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, wrote the line I’ve borrowed as the title for this essay, “Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive”.
Sometimes, the saddest moment in a ride is when it’s over. That’s not a complaint about home or family, just a recognition of the sublime joy of spinning around the act itself — moving through the landscape on two wheels. It does matter why or where you’re riding, just being on the road, soaring and flying in body, mind and spirit can be pure, cosmic satisfaction.
I found myself in that place as I wandered along the winding roads of central Pennsylvania.
There’s much to see while riding, some of it subtle and easy to miss. I’ve ridden past this dry stone wall many times but never paused to look closely or consider what it actually meant — someone, by hand, built this large, long dry stone wall. I’ve built a few dry stone walls but nothing of the scope of this one. It approaches 8 feet in height and runs along a rural stretch of road about half a mile. It’s obviously not maintained and the property seems abandoned. I suppose the state could have built it for some reason — it’s not far from the Rockview State Penitentiary where they would have had lots of free labor to use at some point in the past, but it doesn’t seem to connect clearly with that facility. A small historical mystery found during a ride to no where.
Other decaying roadside artifacts, this one man-made, are everywhere though more and more they are just disappearing. When I was a kid Mail Pouch signs on barns where everywhere. Now I can’t recall another one than this one near Axemann, Pennsylvania.
Winding roads are in abundance around here and provide a fine diverse riding experience. Lot’s of gravel sprinkled around so it does demand caution lest a rider entertain disaster from attempting to carve lines around tight curves.
For me, these stretches of winding, wandering roadways through the hills and dales where I live never cease to thrill.
The roads on a Sunday morning are remarkably quiet. I probably passed more squirrels and groundhogs than I did cars.
Fuzzygalore.com recently published a story about riding just a ways north of here and how empty the roads were — Road Tripping in Pennsylvania — Wandering to Breakfast in Wellsboro. Some nice photos made along a beautiful part of the state. And her SEO is better with much better post titles than I use!
Last year my Vespa GTS died right here, at least for about 30 minutes. The engine would crank, start and immediately die. After the engine cooled it would start right up, a problem I later determined was a failing fuel pump. I missed the idyllic scene of winding road and cattle on the hillside then. Enjoyed it this time.
There are a lot of switchback curves in the mountains here — 180 degree turns that challenge a rider to whatever degree they wish to be challenged. I made this image with the panorama feature of my iPhone. If you’re interested in seeing the larger version lick on the image. The gravel just off the berm was incredibly soft — had I hit it at anymore than a crawl I would have gone down.
Despite that, it was good to wander, and it was definitely better to travel than to arrive!
Great pics as usual Steve. The only rodents I’ve seen are marmots….apparently a protected species in the Alps/Dolomiti mountains.
Those Alpine rodents whistle. They scared me when I was a kid climbing in the mountains near St. Moritz. I was probably 9 years old at the time. My mother told me later what they were.
Can’t believe you passed day 30 in Italy. That’s a long vacation!
Beautiful pictures Steve. I can almost smell the fresh country air and feel a cool summer breeze on my face. I to know what you mean about the ride being over, some days it is just pure magic and it is sad to see it end, but then I look forward to another adventure.
That’s what keeps me going — the next adventure, the desire to see what’s around the bend, over the next rise…
Ahhh, the journey, man, the journey…
Now, how to forgo arrival and just keep traveling. Yet mightn’t travel then lose value? Perhaps this–anticipation, adventure, reflection–is one of those cosmic experiences that simply mustn’t be thrown out of its delicate balance.
It’s too early in the day for me to think about anything cosmic. I need to keep it simple — eat my cereal, listen to my dogs chew bones, and go for a walk. Maybe during the walk I’ll realize there is a delicate balance…
Have to agree with Ry, the end is all part of the process … its purpose is to make us realize how sweet the journey was…so we can anticipate the next road.
Your thoughts are spot on. To the next road!
Ha! I love it, Steve: “…eat my cereal, listen to my dogs chew bones, and go for a walk.”
Yes, that sounds pretty damn cosmic and delicately balanced indeed…
Well, dogs are cosmic creatures…
All that deep loose gravel is likely designed to save overly aggressive car drivers. Motorcyclists are, as usual, left to their own devices. Slow is good.
Good eye David. That loose gravel was really loose. I sat with the back tire spinning. Would have been disastrous if I had not been going slow when I pulled over.
Steve, I really wished I lived nearer to you. Your rides are always interesting. I grew up in Meadville and have spent quite a bit of time in State College, and it is lovely to see the roads in your part of the world. I think we have some things in common; Vespas, photography, and general musings about why we are here. All best, Jon
Hello Jon. Thank you for your kind words about the rides — this is a lovely place to explore. I visited your Notebook site and you have a wonderfully eclectic collection of explorations and projects. I came across a portrait of Pete Carroll and I kept thinking, “I know this guy”. Took me awhile until I realized he made the Vespa Verve video I posted sometime back. Small world.
Are you the Vespa rider in the video?
Not only do the winding roads beckon, but your weather looks very inviting too.
I love the weather here though must admit the cold winters are beginning to weigh on me. I understand now why people migrate to warmer climates…
I was out today. Nowhere in particular did I need to go. I just rode around, and 30 miles later, I was sorry I had arrived home. My helmet pressing high on my cheekbones, a tiny bit of wind buffeting, the sounds of the machine, and my constant desire to be the best, most skilled, and safest rider I can be. Just enjoying another ride, as I do all of them.
Sounds remarkably similar to my own experience. The desire to ride can hit anytime. Like now, evening pushing on and I’m tired but still could use a ride!