Scooter in the Sticks

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

Back in the Sticks

by 6 Comments

The ride to work this morning after my trip to South Carolina was in the fog. It triggered thoughts about safety and vulnerable situations. Fresh memories of traffic on Interstate 95 and 81 had me questioning the judgment of my fellows on the highway. But it was a beautiful morning and those thoughts can wait for another time.

My daughter commented on my ability to see past the noise and find the empty places. On Myrtle Beach I watched her look for shells and made a picture not unlike some of those that appear on Scooter in the Sticks—spare, empty, alone. But you never know what is just out of the frame. Or behind me. She had a good chuckle when looking at the pictures I took.

I’ve gotten pretty good at overlooking or ignoring some things in the landscape.

Small Detour During the Ride to Work

by 8 Comments

One thing that’s sure to extend the time it takes to get to work is fog. Not because traffic slows (it doesn’t) but because I choose longer routes and stop more often to take pictures. And the longer trips means I have to get up earlier and that’s only possible if I pay attention the night before to the weather forecast.

Friday morning I was up early to compare the dawn to the forecast. Outside the bedroom window I saw our spruce trees shrouded in fog. It was denser than I thought which meant I couldn’t stop along the shoulderless roads like I could on clear day for fear that someone would run me, the Vespa, or both down as they rushed to work.

I pulled over along the main route into town from the north to clean my visor and take a picture. If I stayed on this road I would be at work in a few minutes. Time for a detour.

The area has many small and winding secondary roads that are ideal for the non-rushed rider. Even more intriguing are the farm lanes that disappear off into fields and woods. Most see little traffic save for those times of year when farm machinery move on them. The one I took is an exception and sees heavy use in the fall when Penn State football fans use it to access some of the sprawling parking areas that surround Beaver Stadium.

Portable lights used when the games are at night dot the landscape and in the fog look more like something out of the X-Files than related to football. I’ve been on this road many times before in rain, snow, and fog and each time it looks different.

After photographing the small group of trees it was time to ride to work. The fog was so wet that the visor stayed up and my glasses dripped with water. About a half mile from my office the fog ended abruptly as the Vespa and I rode into bright sun under a clear blue sky.

As much as possible I try to the rides to and from work from being a boring commute. As short as it is I know that I can make it a miserable chore. Riding makes the commute better than it was driving and much of the success I have is a direct result of the landscape in which I live. I suspect the right frame of mind is even more important.

50 degrees, Apples, and the Coming of Winter

by 13 Comments

Let me be the first to raise the alarm. Winter is coming. The air, the light, the chill that cut through me brought the horizon into view and it was winter. The Big Dipper was as bright and clear in the night sky as I can remember and I knew it would be cold in the morning. Sleeping in the cold air is great and to just make the night perfect Kim and I were awakened in the middle of the night by a Screech Owl’s whinny.

At 50° I have to protect myself, especially my hands so out came the windproof jacket worn underneath my First Gear Kilimanjaro IV riding jacket. And the heavy winter gloves, just one stop away from the mittens. I hate being cold but I love to ride so I bundle up.

The light was intense as I stopped to look at the play of shadow, light and color in a group of pine trees. It is the kind of light that appears with the onset of fall and signals winter. I’m grinning as I write this. I love the challenge of colder weather.

Apples. I’m really wandering away from riding now. A Honeycrisp apple to be precise. I was at the Cellar Market at Penn State, a small fruit, flower and vegetable market that sells produce grown on the many Penn State Research Farms.

This Honeycrisp is fresh and its good. A student was running a taste test with five apple varieties. I recognized four of them but had never heard of the Honeycrisp apple. One bite and I was transported back to 1965 sitting in a neighbor’s apple tree with three or four of my friends. Every self-respecting 11 year old carried a pocket knife so we were all busy slicing and eating apples, two-legged locusts moving from tree to tree. But I digress.

A bite of that Honeycrisp was EXACTLY the apple taste I remembered. It was incredible. The label for those apples read “explosively crisp”. Sweet-tart, juicy, and they were explosively crisp. I bought the last two they had. The other crates still had lots of apples. And I sort of turned into a Honeycrisp evangelist. The day was exceptional because I had an exceptional apple. And we are entering apple season in Pennsylvania so there will be a lot of fresh apples.

Small Reminders in the Rain

by 7 Comments

Rain was falling and the driveway was covered with leaves when I pushed the Vespa out of the garage. A signal that fall is on the way. Mist shrouded Mount Nittany in the distance and I could not resist a riding a slightly longer route to work. The valley was lush and crops of corn and soybeans near harvest—more reminders of the impending change in season.

On mornings like this a few minutes alone along the road looking around changes the way I see things. Not just the landscape in front of me. It changes the way the day unfolds. I’m able to stay attuned to the small reminders the world throws my way. Later at work while scouting in a production plant I shuddered as I walked through 30 below zero air flowing from the open overhead door of a storage freezer. My mind took me to some of the coldest rides I’ve made, days that grow closer everyday.

For me the prime riding season is just beginning. Colder air, more dramatic color and light, and a sharpening of the senses dulled by the heat of summer. Patterns and textures emerge in the landscape that always seem hidden to me in hot weather. The rain stopped and it was time to move on to work even though I wanted to stay and watch the clouds clear along the ridge.

Fog Sweet Fog

by 7 Comments

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.