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 :)