A Blast From the Past

This was the view today of the Lake Champlain bridge, connecting New York and Vermont (and here's a short video). It was closed the Friday I left on my trip to Maine, and I ended up taking a ferry down between Shoreham, VT and Ticonderoga, NY when I was heading back home. From what I read today, the cement piers had no rebar, and the repeated freeze/thaw cycles of the lake had rendered them unsafe, with catastrophic collapse a possibility (they closed it to even pedestrian traffic). It would have been a cool bridge to see, 80 years old and with some rather interesting architecture, but as a tradeoff, I did get to ride alongside Lake George, so I am definitely not complaining!

An End to a Cold Weekend

As she had threatened, my grown up cousin came charging out of her bedroom at 8:30 on Saturday morning and proceeded to dive onto the air mattress in the living room that I was on and pummel it to be sure I was shaken awake. And then she sicced Sidni on me, who was more than happy to bounce up and down on the mattress until I acted like I was going to get up.

I need more than six and a half hours of sleep.

We sat down to pancakes and scrambled eggs at 9 a.m., enjoying what may be a Conway tradition of having peanut butter on pancakes. Butter, peanut butter and maple syrup. Try it some time. It may be an artery clogger, but it's a mighty tasty one! After breakfast, I started packing up for the departure. Sidni went for a walk with her Grandpa Don, so I got a couple of hugs and pics with her, telling her she'd better mind her mom so I don't have to ride out to Seattle and deal with her. She was real intimidated, I could tell.

I didn't want to leave later than noon, just for the sake of getting home some reasonable time, but I also didn't want to leave too early, because it was 33 degrees outside when I woke up. I managed to get everything wrapped up right around 11 a.m. and got all of my farewells and last minute pictures. Karen's driveway is small pea gravel, so I made sure not to spill the bike on my grand exit, and once I was on firm asphalt, I looked back and gave a couple of farewell blasts with my lovely air horn :)

I had directions to take a couple of country roads that would connect me down with I-75, well south of Lexington, and I followed those about 75% of the way down. Once I got into one small town, I saw a sign with an arrow for I-75, and I figured I'd just jump onto that and head to the interstate that way. That turned out to be a really fun road. Nice sweepers, and rolling hills. Once the bike crested the hill, it would sink faster than my body would, so it was a bit of a roller coaster effect which increased my smiles per gallon exponentially!

Truth be told, the road itself ended up losing me some of my southern angling toward the interstate, but it was fun enough, I don't regret the few miles I gave up. Once I got onto 75, it was a pretty boring ride for a while, and I started to feel the effects of being up past 1 a.m. for the past two nights. I set small goals of where I'd let myself stop next, and ended up getting enough of a second wind around Knoxville, that I didn't stop until I had to get fuel, right at the exit for Gatlinburg (same exit and fuel stop I'd made when coming back from Fargo in May). It finally had warmed up to where I could take off my fleece pants and long sleeved t-shirt, and I got on the road for the last push right at 3 p.m.

Going back this time, I had to deal more with the rock slide on 40, and the posted detour was to take I-40 to I-81, go 53 miles and then get onto I-26, taking it back down to where it connected again with 40. That's a pretty massively stinky detour, adding 70 miles to the trip, and googlemaps showed an alternate that I planned to take through Newport, TN. Once 81 split off from 40, the traffic thinned to a dribble, and most everyone still on I-40 at that point was getting off at the Newport exit. All went well for, oh, about three miles. Then you started to come into the middle of town and there was a wall of stopped traffic. And it wasn't going anywhere. I stuck it out for a while, but about 90% of the forward movement was due to people ahead of us doing u-turns to get out of the traffic and head back the other direction. I saw a bunch of pickups with folks in the back, an older lady in a classic convertible dressed to the nines (the lady, not the car), and another pickup pulling what looked like a parade float, so I'm guessing they had roads blocked for their Christmas parade.

After 40 minutes of creeping forward for less than a mile and no idea of when it would clear up, I joined the u-turn brigade and headed back to the hated detour on I-81. By now I'd lost nearly an hour, the sun was sinking, and I was getting ready to head through the mountains in the dark. I rode as far as I could with my dark shield insert before pulling off at the shoulder on an exit to switch to the clear pinlock insert on my helmet. Once again, it was a matter of picking small goals instead of focusing on the endless miles in front of me, and I made it just past I-40 to Fletcher, NC before pulling off for fuel, a bathroom break and some food. I was pretty beat, but by that time, I was only an hour from home, and I knew I'd warm up some once I started losing elevation toward Greenville. It was 6:30 by now, and after 30 minutes, I was ready to attack the last chunk. Up to this point, I'd never yet used my heated vest on its highest setting, but at 7 p.m. on a Saturday night going through the NC mountains, it was time. I love my vest. A lot.

The last hour passed quickly...I felt like I was practically in my back yard when I'd stopped for supper anyway. I walked in the back door at 7:55, welcomed by a cold house. It was 52 degrees outside and 53 degrees inside. I've used space heaters in my house since January '08 when the ancient oil furnace died, so when I was gone for the weekend, I'd turned everything off.

Before I went to mom's to get my dog, I turned up the heaters, and put on jeans and a sweatshirt over my double pair of long underwear. I got a coffee from Starbucks and went to her house, loading up Riles into the crew cab of my truck before going inside and visiting with mom for a while. Around 9:40, I left, cranking up the heat in the truck for the ride back home. I still hadn't warmed up from the coffee or the time at mom's. Once back home, I saw that the house had warmed up to a whopping 61 degrees. I prepared to go to bed (even the sheets were cold) and made a cup of hot tea. As an afterthought, I poured something a little stiffer - double shot of Knob Creek bourbon.

And that, my friend, is one amazingly effective way to warm up :)

Family Times!

When I was growing up, we lived in Nebraska for about a year and a half, and since my folks worked, I spent most of three summers (the last one being after we'd moved back to NC) with my cousins in Kansas. I've seen a picture of the house on Maple from street view on Googlemaps, and it seems smaller than I remember it. Of course, most houses seem big when you're 10. At that time, Anna was 12, and her brothers Donnie and Daniel were 16 and 15. The guys are all grown (and married) now, and go by Don and Dan, but they'll always be Donnie and Daniel...sorry guys. Same for my cousin Johnny, who has moved on to 'John'.

I've been to the weddings of all of my cousins (except Johnny - boo hiss that I missed it), and the last time I saw the three from Kansas was when Donnie and Jessica were married, seven and a half years ago. I'd caught back up some with Anna earlier this year on email, and she'd commented a few times that she wished we could sit and talk face to face. I was contemplating a ride out to Seattle, where she now lives (what better excuse?), when I got an email from my aunt Karen, inviting anyone in the family to come to Wilmore this Thankgsiving, and mentioning that all of her kids would be there. Once I knew Anna Banana (among others) would be a mere 350 miles away, it was a no-brainer to plan a trip.

The family that was there included my aunt and uncle, Karen and Don, who are the parents of my three cousins of the Kansas fame. Another aunt and uncle, John and Wai-Ming were there, having driven up from Cumming, GA. Their son, John(ny) and his wife Robyn were there, along with their two daughters (Madeline and Sophia). Daniel and his wife Renita drove in from Lexington, and as mentioned before, Anna's two kids were there. Donnie and Jessica brought the newest addition to the Koehn side of the family with little Kru, who was all of about three weeks old. Jessica says she has to wake him up for his evening feeding, which is pretty amazing. She looked great for being such a new mom :) In addition, a co-worker of Karen, along with his family were with us for the meal, bringing the entire group to 24.

We had two turkeys (a 20 and a 24 pounder), and enough food to feed an army. We'd set up four tables with 6 settings at each, so everyone got to mingle in smaller groups. Lunch began around 2 p.m. and lingered until around 4. Even after the food was done, there was some pretty good visiting going on. I took my leetle computer and had all of my pictures on here, regaling folks with stories of my rides. I managed to get some knitting done while talking with Uncle John, and took a few candid shots while food was getting prepped and while cleaning started.

The last of it was wrapped up close to 8, when the last load of dishes were going in the dishwasher, the tables and couches were restored and Karen was running the vacuum cleaner one last time. We ferried the leftovers back to Karen's, while Daniel and Renita took the remaining turkey to their house for a gathering on Saturday. When the dust settled, it was probably after 9, and Anna and I had our chance to talk and we seized it. We talked about old stuff, about new stuff, shared struggles and blessings. Until. 2. a.m.

Hiawatha!

Hold the Turkey and Pass some Dragon!

You know how little comments can make big impressions? Wednesday afternoon, out of the blue, my co-worker (and probably biggest reason I now ride) PJ said, "You know, this trip would be the perfect time for you to go ride the Tail of the Dragon..." and the wheels started to turn.

For those of the uninitiated, the Tail of the Dragon, also known as Deal's Gap, is a road which winds its way through the Tennessee mountains, just past the NC border on US129, snaking its way through 318 curves in 11 miles. Back up and read those last five words...that wasn't a typo. What's even more fun is that the entire road getting to that section is full of great sweeping turns, tighter twists, with views of lakes, dams, mountains, frosted grass (at 9:30 a.m.) and for this trip, blue skies.

My Thanksgiving day started auspiciously enough with my first ever breakfast at Waffle House. When I pulled the bike up across from the huge plate glass window, I felt about a dozen pair of eyes on me from heads of patrons turned to watch. It was packed in there, but I did manage to score a booth and peruse the laminated one page menu. I stayed on the safe side, and just had two eggs, toast and hashbrowns (scattered only, not smothered, covered, chopped, diced or any other variety). I overheard the following side of a phone conversation while I was there when waitress answered the phone, "Travelers Rest Waffle House....ummm, I'm getting ready to put a credit card through. Can you call back in about three minutes and I get your order then? Thanks." This wasn't because she couldn't multi-task, but because she had to have the phone line for the credit card machine to make the call. Whoever was on the calling side didn't seem to mind the delay. I finished my coffee right at 8 a.m., and headed out the door after one last bathroom break.

It was cold. I started out around 37 degrees, but after climbing into the NC mountains, I lost a few degrees, down to about 33 or 34. I stopped at the first rest area and put on another layer, glad of the extra warmth, and thinking I might have under-packed. Back on the road, I got onto I-40, heading toward the infamous rock slide, but got off around Waynesville, on one of those combo higways (74/23/19). I continued to climb, and occasionally would go through clouds. Not fog, mind you, but full-on clouds. As it was still fairly early, I went through many shaded sections that still had frost on the ground. Did I mention it was cold?

Finally, at Bryson City, I pulled off and fueled up before my run on the Dragon. That was the last town of any size before getting to Maryville, TN on the far side, and while I probably had enough to get to Maryville, it would just stink out loud if I didn't, and I didn't want to risk it. I headed out of Bryson City right around 10:30, with the next stop being at Fontana Dam. By the time I stopped there, it had warmed up into at least the 50s, and it was a nice view. One other couple had stopped up there as well, and they wished me a safe journey.

From that point, it's still a few miles before you get to US129, but the road is already getting fun. I took a few pictures at the beginning, but put the camera away, deciding to err on the side of caution, since having the bike take a nap at this point would have really put a kink in things. In the westbound lane, once I got onto 129, there were three vehicles (including yours truly). There was a blue Toyota Tacoma Prerunner in front of me, and a smaller, mid 90s BMW sedan that came up behind me, whom I let pass me. No one else came along behind me, so I was free to take the curves as I wanted to without having the pressure of holding anyone up. I was on an unfamiliar road in the middle of stinking nowhere, my tires have approximately 10k miles on them, and the bike was loaded with luggage, so I wasn't trying to get any major lean on, but I did come close to scraping my boot on a couple of nice turns :) Near the top is an overlook for another dam and a nice photo op. From there, it was all downhill, and the road went right past the huge spillway, running along the irregular margin of the lake. All told, I only passed five westbound bikes while I was on the actual Tail, and probably another four or five once I was lower down. Turns out it really was a perfect day to ride it after all, Peej!

Once back onto normal country roads, it's about 40 miles to Knoxville, and from there I picked up I-75 going north to Lexington. The forecast for the day was for the lower 50s, but it was clouding over, and I wasn't feeling the warmth. I'd planned to stop just north of Knoxville to call my aunt with a time idea for my arrival, get fuel and get food. The plan didn't go so well. I pulled off at Lake City, TN, and got fuel, swinging around to the Cracker Barrel behind the Shell station for lunch. Only problem was, the parking lot was full and people were standing outside waiting to be seated. It was around 1 p.m., and apparently not everyone in Tennessee cooks his own Thanksgiving dinner.

I circled back around and got onto 75 again, figuring I'd stop at the next CB. It was a while before I saw a sign announcing the next one was in 11 miles. Whew. Rode for a bit, and saw another sign...two more miles. Yay! Rode past the next exit, looked to the left of the interstate and saw the Cracker Barrel sign. Stink! There hadn't been anything I'd noticed right at the exit to advertise it. Sigh. I'd really been looking forward to stopping, but figured I'd try one more time to get a Cracker Barrel. Finally, there was the billboard and an exit number. It was exit 41. I had that number memorized. It was wonderful to pull off, because my face felt like it was starting to freeze. Once I got inside to normal temperatures, my face and neck were super flushed, but at least I only had a 10 minute wait to be seated.

Gotta say...sad to say...of all the Cracker Barrels I've been to (and that's a LOT), this one is at the bottom of said barrel. Exit 41. London, KY. Since it was Thanksgiving, I deviated from my normal BLT, and got a turkey sandwich plate. What they brought me (the first time) looked like a snack someone in the back might have concocted, except for the fact it would have been a poor excuse for a snack! The fries were a dark amber color due to the fact they had been brutally cooked to utter death. I tried one, and not believing how bad it was, tried another. Yep. They were bad. The sandwich hadn't been assembled or cut in half. It had refrigerator cold sliced turkey on it, a pile of lettuce, two tomato slices and two slices of cheese. No mayo, no presentation, no grilled bread (as it was advertised). No cole slaw, as is part of the combo.

I started to nibble on the turkey, because the sandwich was too dry to eat without mayo, and the bread was too pasty without being grilled, but even the turkey...one section of the half I was nibbling through had one of those tough ends that's primarily cooked skin and no meat. I kept hoping my waitress would come back by, originally hoping for ketchup to cover the fries and mayo to moisten the sandwich, but by the time she did finally stop by, I'd decided it wasn't worth trying to salvage. She asked how it was, and I told her I was rather disappointed, and showed her the charred fries and chewy turkey bits. She apologized profusely, said they'd make another sandwich and her manager would bring it back out. She was half right. What she brought back out looked 73,000% better than the first mess...nicely assembled, golden fries, toasted bread and mayonnaise on the sandwich. Never saw the manager other than him gabbing with the big table over there and with another couple standing to the left. Schmoozing, but not 'managing' in my book. Or blog.

I called my aunt when I sat down to order, and it was 2:30 (a long old way past that first Cracker Barrel) and I checked the weather. It was 43 degrees outside with a windchill of 36. That's 36 if you're standing still. Sit on a bike and go highway speeds? At least it wasn't just in my head....it actually was cold. I left there around 3 p.m. and traveled pretty much without incident until I got to Wilmore, which is a little town just west of Lexington. Going through Lexington, however, it did start to sprinkle. Nothing horrendous, and by the time I got to my aunt Karen's place, there was still a handful of daylight. It was nice to get inside her home and warm up. I confess I left a mess of layered clothes in one corner of her kitchen that didn't move much at all during my stay there.

I got in at about 4:55, and within 30 minutes, my cousin Anna showed up, with her two kids in tow. The last I saw her, her daughter Sidni was still in a car carrier, and now she's an eight and a half year old girl who seemed to think I was ok (even if she could tell that her mom and I were cousins, since we were just alike). The original plan for my lodging was for me to return to Lexington and stay at my cousin Daniel's house, but it would be empty since he and his wife were with her family for the day. Since it was just nasty, cold and dark out, Karen offered to have me stay at her mobile home, which was already taxed with four others, but I was very thankful to accept the offer.

There were a total of 24 people expected at dinner on Friday, and so Anna and I went with Karen and the kids up to the fellowship center at Asbury College where it was going to be held and started doing preliminary setup for the cooking and eating, arranging couches, tables, centerpieces, pots, pans and place settings. After an hour or so, we had it in pretty good shape and headed back to the trailer, where the three ladies watched a BBC version of Sense and Sensibility. (Anna's 15 year old son Micah couldn't handle that much estrogen and beat a hasty exit to bed.) The movie didn't end until about 1:15 a.m. and we all stumbled off to bed.

I'm going to end this entry here so you don't fall asleep. Go take a nap, eat a snack, and come back later for the next two days' worth of exciting adventure :)

Time's a Flyin'

Dude. Has it been a month? Yeesh.

In that month there have been four Saturdays (as is usually the case) and three of them were beautiful. Sunny. Warm. Beckoning. Tantalizing.

Three Saturdays ago, I had to do yard work. This wasn't just a mild courtesy for the neighbors. I hadn't mowed since probably mid June, the leaves were starting to come down and I still had some plants to get in the ground from the last bestowal from my plant benefactrix. I really needed to be able to get my mower started (the carb was fouled and I couldn't even get the ruddy thing to turn over). Thankfully, Mr. Rogers is my neighbor, and he is kind enough to doctor my lawn mower when I can't get it started. While I sat on their deck and visited with his wife, he took the carburetor off the mower and cleaned it out, putting everything back together, with Riley sniffing alongside, wanting to be a mower repair assistant. It was wonderful to hack down the weeds, plant the summersweet and trumpet vine, and rake a huge pile in the side yard. Riley enjoyed the cushion of leaves in the sun Sunday afternoon when I got home after church.

The next week, I started getting all fixit lady minded (drip), and on Wednesday decided to (drip) tackle two items that had long (drip) been plauging me. One was a (drip) particularly abominable light (drip) fixture in my dining 'area' ('room' is too grand a term), and the other was a (drip) faucet that had (drip) been leaking for probably two or three, or mmrfphg months, and it had finally started to annoy me. I took the cartridge out of the cold water handle side on my American Standard gooseneck that I'd put in about five years ago and headed off to Home Depot. Normally, they're all over you, asking if you need help, if you've found what you need, if they can help you, or if you need them to peel you a grape.

Wednesday nights are evidently not normal, because there wasn't anyone to be found with a helpful lift to his brow. I walked from the plumbing department to the lighting department and managed not to be accosted. Didn't see what I needed in either department, and finally got a warm greeting as I was walking out the exit. Drove to the HD in Greer, and found more of the same...Wednesday night is not their forte. I finally managed to tackle someone who was trying to mind his own 'Kitchen' business and he took me to the plumbing area I'd missed, and called on his little walkie talkie for someone to come to the plumbing department. Apparently no one informed him of their Wednesday policy, because no one showed up. Ever. It ended up with a 'sorry, but you probably need to check up at the plumbing supply place up the road because I can't find what you need and really don't have a clue.'

After my two quests at Home Depot, I did stop in Lowe's to see what they might have, but they carry not the American Standard brand. I browsed their ceiling light selection while there and found something that I thought would be serviceable. It wasn't great, but it was cheap and passable...enough to get past the flickering antiquity in place. Once I got back home, I tried to put the old cartridge back into the faucet, but now it had gone from the occasional, though regular drop to a drippity drippity, drippity, drippity, until I had to just turn off the cold water at the shutoff valve. I mean, cold water at the kitchen sink is over rated anyway, right? At least I had the light I could put up. I turned off the breaker, took down the old, crusty, brittle mess and put up the new little modest globe light. It looked small on the ceiling, but if it did the job...that's what counted, right? When I flipped the breaker, it came back on obediently (no sparks), but it had two massive strikes against it. It only held two 60 watt bulbs and the globe was amber, and when it was the only light source on that side of the room, it was dim, and it was a very yellow dim. The room suddenly had a bad case of jaundice. The ceiling ceased being white. The wallpaper took on a sickly hue. I thought the last light was bad, but that was just because it flickered and it was old and dirty. This new one was painful to look at when it was on. It was depressing! If I turned on the light by habit, I had to turn it right back off as a reflex. Yech!

Thursday, I found out the plumbing place up the road actually had the part I needed (happy dance!) and they had 15 in stock. They were $6 cheaper than ordering it online from the manufacturer and they opened at 8 a.m., so Friday morning, I got my faucet cartridge in hand (I'm loving Imsco!) and Saturday morning I returned the awful light to Lowe's. On a whim, I stopped in to a local lighting store down the street from Lowe's and ended up finding something that I thought would meet my needs. The faucet took about 15 minutes to fix and the light took a little longer. About 98% of my tools are at a friend's house, so I was having to strip the lamp cord with scissors and round up some odd and end screwdrivers, but I managed to get everything put together before going to a dinner with church folks Saturday night. If the old light was dim, the new light looked like I'd managed to somehow tap into the sun and would need a nuclear plant built nearby to sustain the draw. I like it :)

The windows were open at the house and I heard a lot of bikes ride by as I was laboring inside, but having the drip dry up and the light replaced were enough of a tradeoff, that I was able to wait for another day to ride.

This past Saturday, it started cool, but ended up being a mild and beautiful day, which was a perfect day for the wedding of one of my best friends. She'd asked me to be a bridesmaid, so instead of riding off into the mountains, I was sitting in a chair at 9 a.m. having my hair crafted and makeup applied to go with the black dress and three inch heels (and I'm no shorty!) It's kind of nice to get cleaned up nicely every once in a while just to prove that I can :) I forgot to take my camera for the big day, but I might get some pics later to post. We'll see.

So in light of the fact that I've not ridden for the last three beautiful Saturdays, I plan to make up for that and ride out on Thanksgiving Day up to Kentucky to visit some cousins I've not seen for years. I'm especially looking forward to spending time with one who lives outside of Seattle, and with whom I spent a few summers with while growing up in Kansas. The forecast has been its usual fickle self, and up until this afternoon, it was showing snow showers in the forecast for Lexington on Friday. It's calmed down now to a.m. clouds and afternoon sun, but the lows are still going to be dang chilly, down to 27 on Friday. Lord willing, I'll be heading back on Saturday afternoon, so it will just be a short trip, but I'm in the mood for a mini trip :) I'll see if I can have some kind of adventure while I'm gone...just to keep it interesting.

Day 9 - Finis

I feel like I've been beat like a rented mule, so I'll be doing the regular entry after some serious sleeping and resting and stuff. For now, suffice it to say I am home, the bags are unpacked, my pup is on the bed and sleep is imminent.

now edited to add the last day's ride...

Friday night was a late one, but I slept uninterrupted until about 7:40 Saturday morning. I hadn't unpacked very much, so reloading was pretty simple. Downstairs, Jim had cooked up a mess of french toast, and I got to have Ohio maple syrup with my breakfast that morning. The clouds were still hanging around, but the rain of the previous night had stopped. My bike and all of my riding gear were waiting for me over at the plant, and Jim gave me a ride back over there shortly after 9. Once there, it took a bit of effort to get back into everything, and get the bike situated. I'd gotten my directions on how to get to I-77 that morning, and Jim let me know where the one gas station on the way there was. I lubed the chain, checked the oil, circled around and headed out into the gray day with Jim wishing me a safe trip. I found the gas station at the intersection mentioned, and checked my tire pressure after filling the bike.

Two things which have amazed me on this trip are the fact that the bike appears to have used absolutely no oil, and the tires have not lost a pound from when I left my driveway the first day. That just doesn't seem right!

I pulled away from the gas station right around 10 a.m. facing my longest day of riding for the entire trip. It was 600 miles for me to get home, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it the entire way. Only way to find out was to try, though, and I put my best wheel forward. I didn't want to spend a lot of time stopping on Saturday, and figured I could get away with two fuel stops (needing to fill up once I got home), since I could go 200 miles on a tank. Pretty extreme, but possible. I did set a goal for a supper break to be at the Cracker Barrel in Jonesville, NC, across the street from the gas station where I'd first filled up and gotten grilled on my way out. I thought I could make it there by 5, and that would put me home before 9. My primary working number for the day was 10 hours to make it home.

The first glitch came when the rain started coming down in earnest about 125 miles from Solon. I knew I was running parallel to the vertical edge of a front passing through, and would be out of the worst of the rain for the trip. Jim had told me to be optimistic and pack the rain gear. Hmm. Jim's optimism got me a little wet :) I went through a few sprinkles here and there, but when it started coming down pretty good, I pulled over to layer up. And since I stopped, I went to the bathroom, got a drink, filled up the bike and put on my rain gear. The total stop time was probably 30 minutes, which was definitely not on my time table. Oh well.

Back on the road, the storm had pretty much passed on to the east of where I was, and of course, I saw no more rain beyond a sprinkle for the rest of the trip. Back on the highway, I made it out of Ohio before getting into the last bit of usage for my EZPass in West Virginia. I know I used at least $25 in tolls for this trip, because my account was automatically debited to bring the balance back up. As the roads went higher, the clouds came closer, and there was some fog along the way. Also, construction on a few bridges, but that was more of an inconvenience than anything major. I did find my ride along partner through the mountains...this time it was a Jaguar with Ohio plates. Started pacing with him several miles before Charleston, and went several miles along with him. Finally, at a rest area, both of us pulled off, but my stop was short...just fueling. I left within five minutes of stopping, never seeing the Jag leave the parking lot. This fuel stop was almost exactly halfway home for me, roughly 295 miles into the trip, and I was feeling pretty good. What made it even better, was around mile 320, we started descending out of the mountains, out of the clouds, out of the cold. I saw beautiful blue skies and felt like I was leaving polar land. There are two nice tunnels to go through on 77, and for a while, I found another road partner in a blue Silverado with Michigan State plates. Several dozen more miles passed, and now I was entering Virginia, with only another 60 some odd miles to hit the NC state line, and the Cracker Barrel 20 miles beyond that. Coming down from Fancy Gap, this time there wasn't heavy fog, like the trip north, but there were pretty heavy cross winds. Nothing too strong, but it did keep you on your toes.

I decided to fill up before heading to supper, and got my last tank across the street. When I went to leave the station, the bike wouldn't start. Same as before...not a whisper when I pressed the starter button. I got it off the center stand, rolled forward a few feet and put it in neutral. This time it fired right up. I think there might be something acting up with a safety switch somewhere. That'll give TJ something to look for :) I rode across the street to the Cracker Barrel and spent the next 10 minutes taking off layers and packing down the bike. It was warm in that sunshine. I hadn't been that warm in over a week and it was super nice. Another rider parked in the spot behind mine, and we walked in at the same time. His asked if I was on a trip, and I told him I was heading home, that I'd left Ohio that morning. He said, "That's an awful lot of miles for a little girl like you!" I'm not sure what standard he was using for the 'little girl' measurement, but I did agree with him it was a long trip. We parted ways inside, since I had to go to the restroom and blow my nose for the next few minutes. (Even as I'm typing this, three days after the fact, I'm still getting the last of the congestion out from that cold. Ugh.) I ordered my usual BLT, but was saddened by the lack of the bread & butter pickle slice on top. I guess they have to economize, too.

When I stopped, it was about 4:40, and after the fuel, the lightening of layers and eating supper, it was 5:30 when I got back on the road. Now the math was starting, to figure out how many more miles and hours before I got home. Charlotte is typically 90 minutes from my house, and I was close to 85 miles north of Charlotte at the Cracker Barrel. When I-77 passed over I-40 at Statesville, there were several hot air balloons floating around in the soon to be sunset, which was pretty cool. I passed over part of Lake Norman with the sun setting on my right, and when I finally came down to I-85, the afterglow of the sunset was just gorgeous. I thought it a rather nice way to be welcomed back home! Once the sun set, I started getting chilly, since I'd packed all my cold weather stuff up. I made it to the SC Welcome Center, about 35 miles south of Charlotte before I stopped to put on my heated vest and warmer gloves. And the bike wouldn't start again. Rolling forward didn't help this time, but putting it in neutral seemed the key. Back on the road, and I started counting off the landmarks that told me how close I was getting to home. The outlet stores and the giant peach in Gaffney. The interstate loop around Spartanburg. The exit for I-29 which will go through Greer. Pelham Road. I-385. I got off on the Woodruff Road exit so I could go home with a full tank of gas. Bike started right up after fueling, and I filtered back in to traffic to make my way across town.

The closer I got to home, the more unreal the whole trip seemed. When I left, it almost seemed impossible that I was going to get to Maine and back within 8 days. When I was coming home, it almost seemed impossible that I was coming home from actually having been to Maine and back in 8 days! I pulled into my driveway and parked beside my truck, reveling the sense of completion. I unhooked the clips on my luggage and hauled the saddlebags and tankbag in, walking through the back door at 8:39. The house was clean and waiting, just like I'd left it. I changed clothes quickly, went out and hopped in my truck, heading across town to see my mom and pick up my puppy dog. I got to her place around 9:10 and stayed until 10, enjoying just sitting still. Once 10 hit, though, I was ready to pack it in, and got Riles bundled up into my truck and drove back home. As for how I felt when I got back...see the first two sentences of today's entry :)

It's taken a few days of recuperation not to feel so drained. I'm still not 100%, but hope to be running near that in a few days. The weather's been a little icky here, so tomorrow will be my first day to ride to work since I've been back. And it will be 74 degrees out. Ahh.

Day 8 - And He Starts!

When I first woke up this morning, I had a nagging cough that occasionally was one of those nice wheezy kinds, and that convinced me I needed more sleeping. So I did, snuggled under my SpongeBob SquarePants quilt. Got up around 9 a.m., feeling better and without the bark. Once again, I began to zip the luggage back up, trying not to miss anything, and Pat stopped downstairs to ask if I'd like some tea then, and to ask what type of juice I'd like with breakfast. I gratefully took the tea, and shortly thereafter trundled upstairs to a breakfast of two eggs over hard (yolks broken, just the way I like them) and some thin sliced home fries from potatoes that had been grown in the garden out in front of the house. Toast. Cranberry juice. Tea. Nothing much was making me want to get on the road, except for thinking about miles yet to go, and securing my place for the night.

The big question, however, would be whether or not Mr. Crunchy would want to start up or not this morning. After breakfast was done, I figured it was time to find out, so we walked out to the garage and after I had to go back in to get my key, I flipped the switches, pulled levers, and pushed the starter button. The crank was immediate and strong! Hallelujah! It was very nice to hear that sound, and I was very thankful for that answered prayer! Once that was determined to be good, Pat helped me tote and load the luggage on the bike, and I put on my final layers before heading off. While yesterday had been almost balmy, this morning had dropped into the 30s, so layers were a definite. As was the case yesterday, there was rain in the early a.m., but upon my departure (at 10:45...egads!) the skies were gray, but dry. I didn't have definite directions for where I was going this evening, since I wasn't online the night before, so I rode as far as I could on my tank of gas, and stopped at the last service center on the Thruway before getting to PA. The center had WiFi, so I grabbed my netbook and tankbag, heading inside through the first of today's rain. It was a little before 1 p.m., and I figured I had three hours to go. I wrote out the steps to get to the branch in Solon, called one of my guys here to make sure he wouldn't be gone home if I got here after 4, sent a couple of emails, and packed everything back up. By now, it was a pretty steady rain, though still light, and I rolled up to the gas pumps to top off. Wiped down the bike as well I could before putting the tank bag back on, and headed out for the last 170 miles of the day. The rain came, the rain went. Wind came with some of the rain too (that was fun...) The skies stayed grim, and by the time I got to the outside of Cleveland, it was coming down in earnest. I wanted to shake my head like a dog to clear the face shield, but it wouldn't do much good. It was a good thing I didn't have too many steps to remember, because traffic was picking up. I got off on my exit, starting to go from memory from when I'd visited the branch three years ago for training. I rolled off the main road right behind a stretch Lincoln Navigator who was kind enough to let me pass. Turned left into the parking lot and walked back into the warehouse. After the initial hello, I went and rode the bike up into the warehouse, out of the rain, and proceeded to do the onion peel dance to get the layers off. The plant has an apartment upstairs, fully equipped, so I was able to get a hot shower right away, and change, ready to head out for supper with Jim and Sally, who are hosting me tonight.

Before leaving, however, I got to be a spectator in what must be the most bizarre card game known to man. Apparently, this group of guys started playing Gin around 15 years ago, but got bored with it after a while, and came up with at least a dozen variations, changing wild cards, point cards, requiring passes, skipping alternating numbers high and low, and whoever deals decides which variation they play. And hopes that they remember all of the variations which apply to that particular version (quad black, over under, triple double). At 5:30, I rode with Jim to his house seeing four or five does and fawns along the way (thankfully no encounters on the bike yet). He and Sally and I went to their favorite Mexican restaurant for a tasty supper and good flan for dessert, before coming back home around 8.

Right now, everything is drip drying, awaiting the last, loooong trip tomorrow. The goal is to be home tomorrow night. Which means I've got to ride 600 miles. I might get one of those 14th winds and it'll go by like a flash, or I might just sit by the side of the road and cry after 400 miles. We'll see how it goes. It's near midnight now, but I wanted to get today's update in here (which was delayed, due to wifi technicalities...who knew you could broadcast a signal, but not show the name so people could find it? Somehow, through a couple of phone calls and google searching, my hostess and I managed to stumble across the way to manually add their invisible wifi to my little 'puter. Thanks again, Sally!)

Nyquil is my friend tonight.

Day 7 - Vermont and the Corridor of Gold

Thursday was the departure from the Bed & Breakfast. There were a total of four other guests in the dining room this morning...a younger couple, possibly newlywed, and an older British couple on holiday (of whom, the husband had lost their ATM card the day before). I had a sympathetic hostess who brought out a large serving of French toast, along with Cabot's butter (locally made) and maple syrup (locally produced). My tasting receptors weren't totally under a cloud, and I was able to enjoy the meal, although to a limited degree. Once I'd finished breakfast, I headed back up to Room #3 at the top of the stairs, and gathered the last of my belongings together. The weather had started out pretty ugly before I got up, with rain coming down, but by the time I was heading out, it had died down, and, best of all, it was warm! I mean, it had to be in the 50s already, and I didn't need to wear my 50 gazillion layers. I headed down through Waterbury, CT, past the Ben & Jerry's factory, and a little further on past the Vermont Teddy Bear factory. Once I got to Burlington, VT, the skies had decided to be beautiful, so not only did I have great temps, I had blue skies! Further down the road, I was following along the route plotted out by Googlemaps and had my first curveball of the day. A lovely flashing traffic sign informed me the bridge I was planning to take to New York was closed. And I happened to be in the middle of nowhere.

Well, actually, it was a four way intersection with a state highway and a side road, and there was a local convenience store at the corner. I did a quick turn into their parking lot, planning to ask what my alternatives would be. I'm apparently not the first to stop in to ask, because there was a hand printed sign on the door, listing a ferry to the north, a ferry to the south and a road route to the south. I went inside anyway to ask a few more details, and I looked at a brochure advertising the ferry to the south. Once I took the Shoreham ferry, the road I'd need to follow after that was 9N, which would go around a lake and connect me eventually to I-87. The lady at the store said the ferry was 20 miles further south, so I got back on the road. A few more miles, and I saw some signs for the ferry, five miles down a side road. It was a nice road with a bunch of 90 degree turns in it, and nice high vistas over the neck of Lake Champlain, which is what the ferry was crossing.

When I got to the end of the road, there were six cars lined up beside a shed with a sign listing the prices, and stating the fares would be collected on board the ferry. I had another one of those hunches, and got off the bike to walk down to the front of the line and looked more closely at the sign. Cash only. Yeah, I should have known. Should have been carrying more cash on me. Wouldn't have had to ask where the nearest ATM machine was. And retrace my route back to the Mobil station five miles away. But I didn't, so I did. Once I'd gone back down the curvy for the third time, I got back in line the second time and waited for the ferry to creep back across. Once it docked, I rolled forward with the other cars, and got to be first in line in the row along the left side of the ferry. It was a brief 10 minute interlude, but it was nice to have the wind in my hair and watch the trees along the shoreline.

The other side of the river was Fort Ticonderoga, and I followed signs for 9N once I got back onto solid ground. The town on Ticonderoga had some really pretty trees along the route, but once 9N started winding along Lake George, it turned into the perfect motorcycle road. Nice sweeping curves, bordered by a beautiful lake on the left and overarched with every shade of gold, yellow, and amber there is. I stopped at one overlook for a picture, but mostly just enjoyed the ride. The temps were nice, the sun was out, the road was an utter delight. I knew it was going to make me later than originally anticipated for my arrival time that night, but I didn't care. It was worth it to have that one beautiful road.

After about 25 miles of hugging the shore, I took a side road which was signed for I-87, and headed back over to start logging the miles. Once I was on 87, it was about 65 miles before I got to I-90, also called the Thruway. I was starting to get close to the bottom of my fuel, but wanted to get past Albany, where 87 and 90 intersected, before stopping. Once I was heading west on 90, I'd already clocked 200 miles since my fueling in Stowe the night before. Sure enough, a sign came up on the right which listed the services available at the next stop. Starbucks, McDonalds, Mobil gas...everything I might want. And it was 15 miles away, with no exits before that.

I started doing the math....I've averaged 52 mpg, and my normal fuel range goes through 4.2 gallons, with reserve being available until 4.8 gallons. I'd not hit reserve yet, but knew it would be soon, and with .6 gallons, I should be able to go 30 miles after I had to switch to reserve, so I thought I could make it. Right when I got to the exit for the service center, the bike gave the signs of needing to go to reserve. Perfect! I switched to reserve, rolled up to the gas pumps and filled up. Since I went to the gas pump first, there was no way I could circle back to the stores for a bathroom break (all of the traffic was one way to the entrance back onto the Thruway, and the shops were before the pumps). I wasn't in dire need of a break, so I took off, planning to stop at the next center.

I left the station, and was accelerating onto the entrance ramp, when I mis-shifted, so that when I thought I was going into 2^nd gear, I was still in 1^st, and well up into the RPM range when I popped the clutch out. The bike jumped forward, and I shifted quickly up to about fourth gear, but something wasn't acting right. The bike started to surge and buck, losing and gaining power very unpredictably. At one point, I had the throttle all the way open, but I was only barely getting up to 60 mph. I noticed I was still in 4^th, so I went up to 6^th, but it was no better. I got over into the shoulder, and decided to run it as far as I could, and aim for the next exit, which was only a mile or so away (pretty handy, since the last exit had been 15 miles prior). I got off and headed into Amsterdam, NY, thinking to look for a PowerSports place and see if they could find anything wrong. However. Once I got into town, the bike calmed down, and started to behave. In the past, when it acted up, an overnight stop cured things, so I thought maybe just getting it calmed all the way down would sort things out. I looked for signs to get back onto the Thruway and decided to see how the bike would do. Went through the toll booth, accelerated up to speed, and never had a hiccup after that. Don't know if I got some kind of vapor lock or a bit of goo from the new gas, but whatever it was, it cleared out, and things were back to running good.

One more stop, and I put on rain gear for the last leg of the trip, because the clouds were starting to pile up. The last stop of the evening was to top off the gas tank, after 200 miles on the Thruway, and starting to head south. The rain started right about the time of that last stop for gas, and continued for the last 40 miles of the trip. As I knew would happen, I was now riding in the dark. Darkness doesn't lend itself well to reading directions which are tucked into the map pocket of the tank bag. When I was at the gas station, I memorized my next couple of turns. Once I got to the end of the steps I knew, I'd find a street light, read through the next few steps, and ride to the next light I'd need. Leapfrogging like this, I finally rolled up to Pat and Kathi's house around 7:15, hitting the kill switch in the driveway. The rain had finally relented to a heavy misting, and we got my luggage in pretty quickly. Pat offered their garage for my bike, and I rolled back to the street to be able to ride into the garage. When I went to start the bike up, nothing happened. No click, no whir, no nothing. The bike had done this a couple of times in Maine on Tuesday, but was only a temporary glitch, starting up on the second or third try. Thursday night, the bike was NOT going to start. Pat helped me roll the bike into the garage and I left it there, praying it was only an electrical glitch from the rain (it's happened before, you know...) Once inside, I caught up with Kathi, a former co-worker, while her husband was upstairs concocting a seafood marinara, along with salad and a garlic butter sauce for dipping torn bits of Italian bread into. At the end of a good meal, Pat got up and started to prepare dessert, which was a cobbler made with wild pears. I could taste the pear in that, and it was a nice finish to the evening (as was the small glass of a 12 year old single malt scotch). Finally, at 10:45, I pushed back from the table, about to fall asleep on my feet. I tried to get online for just a short update on the blog, but the dial up at the house wasn't happy with this website, and I had to just call it a night. Sleep came swiftly :)

Day 6 - Kancamagus to Stowe

It is a wonderful thing that today only required a ride of about 160 miles. Check-in isn't until 3 p.m. at the Ten Acres Lodge, where I'm spending the night, so I didn't plan to leave Brownfield until around 11 a.m., which would put me here around 2:30 if I didn't stop for anything.

The temps this morning were about 15 degrees warmer than yesterday, and the sun poked out pretty good, which always makes things better. I puttered, I moseyed, I meandered, and finally had things ready to hit the road around 11. When you pull out of Frank & Trina's driveway, you're on a hill with a nice vista of mountains in the distance. It's still a dirt road, though, so I couldn't enjoy the view too much, as I was making sure the bike didn't want to skitter around in the dirt and gravel.

Back on the main state road, I headed west into New Hampshire. I went through what seemed all of the Conways (East Conway, Center Conway, North Conway) and branched off onto Rt. 112, also known as the Kancamagus Highway. I'd been on it once, 10 years ago in early September, before the leaves had changed, and this time, I was just in time to be there after the leaves had changed. There were still some nice oranges and yellows along the highway, but the flanks of the mountains were mostly left to evergreen. The sun was nice and shiny on the eastern side of the pass, but as the elevation rose, so did the cloud level. I crested the pass at 2855 feet elevation and it was stinking cold. Right where the sign for the pass was, I pulled over to take a picture, and found out the batteries for my camera were toast. I knew there was a spare set of batteries in my tank bag, but they eluded my road side searching. I used my cell phone to snap a quick pic, but alas and alack, the ensuing 100 miles were without the benefit of photographic proof. I made one quick stop at the Vermont welcome center to blow my nose (desperately needed) and brace up for the last hour of riding. Breathing through my nose was pretty much not an option from the congestion I've now got, but thankfully, the changes in elevation weren't excruciating.

The clouds had settled in for good, so the latter part of the trip was chilly. For the second day in a row, I left off a layer I needed. I don't plan to be chilly tomorrow.

Following my Googlemaps directions got me so far today, but I ended up turning off a hair before my '13.8 miles' were up. I was sure I was heading in the right direction, so I punted. I knew they were located just south of the village of Stowe, and the website said there were signs pointing them out. Happily, all of the above was true and I pulled up at the house at 2:35. I came in to see if I could at least get the check-in paperwork done, and Frank (the husband of the couple who runs the place) was kind enough to let me get all settled in. He was heading out shortly, so my timing turned out to be pretty good. I lugged everything up to Room 3, which has vertical pine paneling and a squooshy looking blue duvet. I had to flake out on the bed for a few minutes before I could face going back out on the bike. I had a cup of tea this morning, with honey, but other than that, I had no appetite and ate nothing, so I was on fumes. The bike had a good run, too, and while not on fumes, I wanted to fill it up in preparation for tomorrow's departure.

There is a highway about four blocks down that takes you into Stowe the back way, and I saw a Shell station within a mile, and pulled over to top off. The station was a nice convenience store, and had a Subway in the back, so I decided to take the easy way out and grab a toasted sub. I felt like I was being a bit of a dud to go with a franchise meal, but it turns out to be a good thing, because I couldn't taste a bit of it. I'd have been bummed to get some tasty local food and not be able to tell!

Once I finished the sandwich, I headed right back to the Lodge and got into some comfy clothes. As an afterthought while packing, I threw in a pair of slippers for when I was at folks' houses. Turned out to be a dang good idea, and my tootsies are toasty right now. I played a little of the poor, pitiful me card, and asked if I could have a fire in the living room fireplace tonight , even though I'm the only guest in the main lodge. Frank felt sorry enough for me, he went ahead and built one up (see pic above), and it's been nice to flake out by the fire right now (still breathing through my mouth), but anticipating a Mucinex-D dosage that has my name on it for bed time.

Breakfast is served from 8:00 to 9:30 tomorrow morning, and I really hope I can taste the Vermont Maple syrup I plan on enjoying! I'm aiming to be on the road by 10, which will land me at Kathi's house tomorrow night by 5:30 p.m., Lord willing. I was hoping to go through the Adirondacks on my way over there, but that adds an hour to my travel time on what will probably seem like a really long day. The way I feel, I may even have to bypass going to Niagara Falls so I can go farther on Friday and shorten the ride for Saturday. That's a bummer, but there's no sense in running myself into the ground when I feel like horse puckey. I bet the waterfalls will be there in a few years if I want to come back. I'd bet a lot!

At any rate, that's it for tonight. I'm calling it early and might, just might, watch a little TV. (If that doesn't seem noteworthy to you, you probably don't know that I don't own a TV. And yes, I am an American.)