Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Fog Sweet Fog

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It was purely a coincidence when I read Gary Charpentier’s post on Rush Hour Rambling referencing the differences between my fog and his fog just minutes before departing to ride in some of that charming atmospheric effect. And I can’t agree more with the fog differential between us.

I took the day off and when I saw fog on Tussey Mountain I figured it would be a good day to explore the forest roads in Rothrock State Forest. All gravel and dirt but I’m much more adept with the scooter on these surfaces now and besides—there was fog!

Before going further I have to express how different it is to ride in the fog here versus what Gary has to deal with. While I have to pay close attention to the road the shear lack of volume of other vehicles where I ride creates a completely different environment. I saw one other vehicle the entire time I was in the fog. One. I suspect Gary came near to thousands on his commute to work. In my mind heavy fog with heavy traffic is right up there with snowstorms. He is “One rugged sumbitch!.

Riding towards the mountain I could see clouds shrouding the upper two-thirds promising some magical scenery. Starting up the road to Little Flat takes me through a tunnel of trees all the way to the top of the ridge.

The fog becomes heavier as I cross over the ridge and up the next one on Bear Gap Road. The trees are even closer to the edge of the road and the sides of the road are much steeper and rock covered.

While most of the rocks are limestone there are occasional outcroppings of white sandstone that glow in the fog. About this time I notice I am dripping wet in part because of the fog but mostly I think because it is hot outside even at 7 AM. And it just got worse as the day went on though being a smart man I spent it at home in air-conditioned comfort with a good book. But I digress…

I stopped a lot to look at things, probably even more times than I normally do because of the fog and what it does to a place. I suspect on a sunny morning I would never have noticed the spider web on these thistles.

Riding further I come to the edge of one of the many wilderness areas in Pennsylvania and a place that is especially rich for reptiles and amphibians—read that rattlesnakes and turtles.

While padding around a bit I noticed a red newt crossing the road. Again, something you won’t see riding or driving. The drogue I call a camera affords many special views.

My stomach got the better of me and caused the Vespa to turn towards home even as the fog seemed to get heavier. I could not help but think of the battle Gary has to endure to travel on two-wheels through this stuff. There is no rambling in that kind of environment. Fog is what the place makes of it. It’s dumb luck I find myself where I am.

Pre-Dawn Departure

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After almost a week of having to take the Ford Ranger to work I was ready to ride. Friday evening I exchanged the dark Iridium Visor on my Fulmer helmet for the clear one paving the way for a pre-dawn departure. I rolled the Vespa GTS out of the garage at 5:30 AM to a clear, star filled sky with the temperature a mild 53° F. After so much hot weather I forgot what that means on two-wheels.

Riding along through the agricultural areas where cornfields and woodlots that grow right to the edge of the roads meant I would need to manage the risk of encountering Whitetail deer. Since it was still dark and the deer would be moving at this time of day the only real option would be to slow down. I hadn’t gotten three miles until I had to stop to put on another shirt. I made a big mistake not wearing my insulated First Gear Kilimanjaro IV jacket. I looked at the weather report and saw that the temperature would hit the low 70’s. That did happen but not until almost 1 PM. Three layers under the vented jacket kept me functional if not comfortable. The bigger problem was my hands that remained numb or near numb until almost noon. For the first 105 miles the temperature never got above 55° F.

I was on the road 20 minutes before I saw another vehicle. The solitude of riding is magnified on the road near dawn. I’ve not tired of watching the sky begin to brighten and change color during those minutes before the sun breaches the horizon.

I missed the actual sunrise while crossing Nittany Mountain near Rebersburg; the heavily forested area masking any direct light from the low sun. Riding along I could feel my spirits begin to soar and an electric thrill moves through me just because I am riding. I keep asking myself why I didn’t start riding again a long time ago.

I enter Sugar Valley and turn east into the sun right over the road. Almost 15 miles of shielding my eyes from the direct sun with my left hand relaxing only when the road was shielded by trees. Without doing so the shadows were jet black and who knows what would be waiting for me. I was grateful when I finally turned north and on towards Pine Creek Gorge.

At Waterville I had to stop and warm up my hands. Even though I was wearing windproof and insulated gloves they were not heavy enough to do the jog. I know better than to head out unprepared but I allowed myself to be lulled by the idea that it was summer.

About 20 minutes in the sun with a cup of hot chocolate cheered my spirits and thawed my hands enough to continue on towards my next mistake.

When I can’t ride I look at maps and imagine riding. My route this morning was to follow PA 44 to PA 414 along Pine Creek into Pennsylvania’s Grand Canyon – the Pine Creek Gorge. A mental mix-up of the map in my head has me follow PA 44 up onto the mountain top rather than remain along the creek and take me far West of my objective. To make matters worse the state has kindly tarred and chipped the road on top of the mountain treating me to almost 25 miles of gravel and 25 MPH speeds.

Thank god the scenery was enjoyable and I stopped often to look out across the many vistas.

When the road finally cleared my mind moved from managing the changing surface to my stomach and breakfast. A big banner proclaiming “BREAKFAST” on the front porch of the Carter Camp Lodge was all I needed to stop for food, water, and warmth.

I could not have found a better and more relaxed place to eat and the gentleman cooking my breakfast took an interest in the Vespa. Not enough to dissuade him from his BMW R90 though.

And it did not keep him from making one great hearty breakfast either. The Carter Camp Lodge will be on my list of stops next time I pass this way.

The Vespa and I are moving down the road again around 11AM. I’ve been on the road for over 5 hours and have gone 105 miles. I’ve stopped over a dozen times to take pictures, had breakfast, adjusted clothing, and traveled slowly for deer and gravel. So I suppose I’m not doing too badly.

I hit the famous US Route 6 at Galeton and decide it’s time to head home without back tracking to the canyon or seeing the sights. With another 120 miles ahead of me I crank the throttle and cruise along.

My plan was to head to Wellsboro and south on PA 287 and on home. Postcard weather and fine roads through some of the prettiest places in the state promised a fine ride until the scooter and my brain conspired against me. First I noticed the exhaust sounded louder than normal. A quick check of the infamous Vespa GTS exhaust system gasket confirmed that it was beginning to fail. Luckily I made it home before it blew out. The scooter is now with the dealer for a new gasket that is part of a manufacturer recall. During the trip home though I began to wonder if the kind of riding I have been doing is too much for the scooter, if I should really be riding something bigger, more powerful, more durable. All this while cruising along comfortably at 60 MPH on a machine that has proven to be nothing short of exceptional.

But my mind wanders to the fact that I didn’t pass a scooter all day or a motorcycle under 1000cc’s. Those thoughts pass quickly though as I absorb the scenery and amazing roads that I have to ride on.

Sunday Jaunt

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Not every ride can be long and filled with adventure. This past Sunday’s ride was a quiet, easy 80 miles under clear skies. Paul suggested we meet at Saints, one of the local coffee shops at the crack of dawn. For me that would normally mean 5:30 AM but for Paul that means 8 AM, the first opportunity to buy the Sunday edition of the New York Times. My own mental planning didn’t go beyond finding somewhere new to have breakfast.

During one of our stops to look for pictures I share with Paul my interest in riding to Georgetown South Carolina to visit an aunt and uncle and invite him along. He’s mildly interested though concerned about the durability of his back for a multiple day ride especially if it means long days with me lollygagging along on back roads taking pictures.

Riding a new route that parallels Interstate 80 through bucolic Amish farmland we head towards Mill Hall. It’s pretty easy picking out the Amish farms — no power lines to the buildings and teams of horses or mules in the pastures. On a Sunday the horses get the day off save for the one powering the buggy going to church.

By accident we come across the Train Station Restaurant. It’s in an old train station and still has an old caboose out back. A sign on the door indicates they will be closing their doors in a few weeks to move to a new location. I heard chatter that the entire station would be moved down the road a half mile. That seemed a little over the top for a little mom and pop restaurant but I’ll check back.

After breakfast I heard the siren song of the lawnmower so we made our way home without further photography or stops. Some days riding just has to take a backseat to other more pressing personal responsibilities. Seems like an indication of personal failure.

Keeping Up with the Big Machine

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Last Sunday morning I rode 153 miles with my friend Paul Ruby to see how the latest addition to his two-wheeled fleet performed. Paul just purchased a 2000 Kawasaki Concours which joins his Vespa and Ducati as riding options.

Arriving at his place at 8AM found the Concours still under wraps and the Ducati up on a jack. Paul came out the door, cast aside the cover and we were on our way – almost. Before the ride could commence fully he had to stop to pick up the Sunday New York Times.

Paul lets me lead so I can stop when I want to take pictures. I worry a bit that I am traveling too slow but the Kawasaki seems content in my rear view mirrors. Heading west into the Moshannon State Forest I stop to look at some cimicifugia racemosa.

Kim calls them fairy candles and they are also known as Black Cohosh or Black Snakeroot. Paul takes the stop as an opportunity for more coffee and a breakfast banana.

From there it’s on through Black Moshannon State Park and northward over Red Moshannon Creek. The history of coal mining in the region displays itself in the bright orange streams fallen victim to acid mine drainage. This damage will last pretty much forever I’m told.

During a stop to look out over the West Branch of the Susquehanna River you can see some of the contamination seeping in but the greater water volume seems to dilute it.

A growling stomach and short discussion points us to a small eating establishment about 30 miles away. Riding up the Quehanna Highway the Vespa cruises comfortably at 55 MPH until we turn off onto Wycoff Road to head towards Sinnemahoning and a hearty breakfast at the Willows, the only place to eat for miles around that I know of.

I was hungry so I didn’t get any pictures of breakfast. You all know what bacon and eggs look like. It was good. If you get up this way stop here to eat.

Getting ready to leave we see a pack of BMW bikes cross the bridge and head towards Renovo. They are packed and riding fast somewhere. Following their path I think about how fast I am comfortable riding and it’s pretty slow. Traffic on these rural roads still wants to go fast and I tend to let the occasional car or truck go by at 70 MPH. Those 55 MPH signs are a waste of tax dollars.

As always I want to see things and tend to move along at a more relaxed pace and Paul seems content to do the same.

I pull over to look at the river and Paul makes a portrait of me.

While I’m looking around he amuses himself with a short piece of lumber he finds along the road.

I guess the ride just isn’t enough.

We stop one more time so I can look out over the river and valley and take a few pictures. My low fuel light comes on before we get to Renovo but I’m not worried—gas is just a few miles away. The gas station is closed. The only gas station around is closed, probably because of the fire that must have just occurred in the past few days.

With the low fuel light on and two bars showing on the fuel indicator we cross the river and head south to the next gas station in Snow Shoe about 36 miles away. I’m comfortable that I have enough fuel and the fact that there is little traffic and no cell coverage doesn’t bother me. When the fuel indicator drops to one bar before we even get to the top of the plateau I start to wonder how I might move fuel from the Kawasaki to the Vespa. Then it starts to rain.

A quick stop to pull on raingear and take a picture of one of the out of place rocks that sort of appear here and there we are on our way. I keep the scooter at around 40 MPH thinking I am going to stretch the fuel supply and maintain a light touch on the throttle as the last bar on the fuel indicator disappears. I’m actually surprised to make it to the gas station in Snow Shoe without running out of gas. Even more surprised that I had 3/10 of a gallon left when I got there. Sometime I am going to have to run the tank dry to see how far I can really go.

Getting closer to home Paul and I part ways. I didn’t register any reasons why the relatively small Vespa and the large touring Kawasaki couldn’t ride all day together if there was no need to chew up miles or ride at high speeds on the Interstate. For touring around like we did it was fine. I know I could ride a lot faster but that interferes with most of the goals I have while riding

Morning Postcard

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Kim looks out for me. Yesterday morning around 5:30 AM she wakes me with the words “there’s fog outside”. No matter how sleepy I am those words don’t fail to awake the rider and photographer. So I left for work early just so I could ride (I wanted to say ramble but I feel that word is spoken for) a bit in the magic.

The fog was not of the ground level variety and instead hovered higher in the air where it filtered the light a bit. This photo was made along Bear Meadows Road in Rothrock State Forest.

Went on a long ride with my friend Paul Ruby. He has acquired a new to him Kawasaki Concours motorcycle as a replacement for his Suzuki DRZ400 SuperMoto. Pretty drastic change. I have not had time to write that up yet or go through all the pictures I made. Hopefully by the end of the week.

No fog this morning so I think it will be a straight ride to work. Even that is a fine time…