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Categories: Wedding
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You know you’re having a good road trip when the first thing that comes to mind the day after an excellent day is “this one was even better!”

Yesterday we awoke to a foggy and cold morning, and it looking like miserable riding due to the frigid temperatures. I walked around the park we were staying at, Bald Eagle State park to warm up a bit, and marveled at the “moving hotel rooms” that some of our neighbors were sporting. RVs with satellite dishes, and even elaborate fake lampposts with the family name and roster of family members were scattered about, making our tent and two motorcycles look all the more unimpressive.

Around 11am the sun started to peek through and burn off the fog, and it became a surprisingly warm day. We followed Route 150 to Lock Haven, PA., where we met up with Route 120, which turned out to be the best ride of my relatively short motorcycling career. The road alternated between scenic vistas through old forests, to small towns where the only landmark was a local pub, and perhaps a gas station in the larger ones.

Lured in by a sign indicating the presence of ice cream, we stopped at one of the local hangouts. While outside removing gear and stretching in the hot 3pm sun, two gentlemen came outside visibly a little “wobbly.” One put a bottle of whisky in his car “for later” as he indicated to his buddy, then whet back into the pub. The other hobbled over to his half-ton pickup, spend 5 minutes searching for the right country station at ear splitting volume, then burned out of the parking lot. I can imagine there isn’t much to do in rural PA., so I guess your Saturday morning consists of getting nicely sauced up, then tearing down the roads to the next spot. Steve and I shared a look, and suddenly the hundreds of DUI signs we had seen on our route all made sense.

We rolled into a small town that marked the end of Route 120, and consulted the GPS to find a home for the evening. We picked the nearest state park in the list, which was about 5 miles away, and followed the path divined by Mr. Garmin and his army of satellites. Signs indicating the park closed at sunset did not bode well for our accommodations, but a helpful park ranger pointed us in the direction of another park a couple miles down the road. With the warning that “it’s Federal land,” which we never figured out, we rolled into East Branch Lake Park.

Everything about this park was nicer than our previous evening’s home. We were one of the only groups staying, and the park had more rugged campsites with no RVs, making it more like “real” camping rather than a trailer park. There was also an abundance of fallen wood, which contributed nicely to the large fire we had later in the evening.

After setting up camp and informing the wives that we were still alive and well, we returned to a small restaurant we had passed, for a reasonably tasty dinner. We had hoped for some local color at the bar, but it seemed relatively quiet, and we could only assume the folks on the “3pm plan” we safely tucked in for the night. Taking advantage of PA’s strangle liquor laws, for desert we took a six-pack to go, and returned to camp.

The evening was once again rather chilly, but warm sleeping bags and a touch too much Yuengling made for a pleasant night’s sleep. Steve made an appearance and apparently the night’s festivities did not treat him very well and he’s disappeared back into the tent.

The sun is already slowly starting to warm cold bones, and in an hour or two it will be time to point the Burgman and Beemer towards our respective homes. It’s been great to live my own version of Easy Rider for a weekend, and hopefully we’ll make this an annual event (and perhaps even convince the wives to join us next time!)

Categories: Travel
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Yesterday was one of those days that was perfect for motorcycling. Clear blue skies, a slight crispness to the air, light traffic and beautiful scenery. I started out around noon, leaving our apartment and heading north to the Tappan Zee Bridge. The suburban sprawl of NYC gradually thinned out as I hit I-80 and made my way across New Jersey.

After a short stop for Taco Bell (the official sponsors of road trips everywhere) I crossed into Pennsylvania through the Delaware Water Gap, a smaller scale version of the Grand Canyon, where thousands of years of quiet erosion by the Delaware River formed some fairly impressive wooded canyons. From the Water Gap, the interstate climbed gently rolling hills, until my arrival in Pennsylvania’s farm country was announced with the strong and semi-sweet smell of horse manure as I crested a final hill.

I managed to rendezvous with my buddy Steve about 10 minutes after arriving at Bald Eagle State Park, a logistical miracle considering I was leaving from NY, and he was leaving from Maryland, and our plan consisted of “leave whenever on Friday, and here’s the address of the park.” We chose a campsite, pitched our tent, and then proceeded to more pressing matters: acquiring hot dogs and beer.

Camping wouldn’t quite be camping without some dogs cooked over an open fire, and beer of course provides a healthy and delicious source of vitamin R. We mounted our trusty steeds, and rode into the Mecca of any rural town: Wal Mart. This area has one of those Ultra-Super-Amazing Wal Marts, and the place must have covered 5 square miles. Food, cookware, clothes and shotguns were all available under the gleaming florescent lights, and despite the risk of being run over by a shopping cart or “large” person in an electronic scooter, we managed to acquire all the necessary eats.

On the way home we stopped into a honky tonk bar to get beer. PA has strange liquor laws that necessitate purchasing reasonable quantities of beer (i.e. 6-packs) must be done at a bar. This particular joint was filled with local folks, and the sweet sounds of “Funky Cold Medina” were playing over the jukebox, causing Steve and I to wonder if we should stay and sample some local flavor. Good judgement got the better of us, as we were still 10 miles away from our home for the night, and it looked like quite a bit of “social lubrication” would be required to hang out with these folks, so we took our sixers to go.

Fall has definitely arrived, and we spent the night huddled close to the fire, trading stories and chowing on hot dogs. It’s a foggy and cold morning as I write this, and I’m eagerly awaiting the forecasted arrival of the sun to dry the tent and motorcycle seats, so we can avoid the joys of, shall we say, “extremity dampness.”

The plan for today is to ride north to the Allegheny Mountains, along some supposedly scenic rural roads. I have yet to hear any rumbling from the tent, so it looks like Steve still needs some beauty rest before we endeavor to break camp.

Stay tuned, and keep warm!

Categories: Travel
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