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.

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.