Making My Way Toward Route 6

Making My Way Toward Route 6

When I woke up and looked out the window, there was a cool fog hanging over everything. The world around me was still asleep when I set off for the day. Because it’s August I had only my mesh jacket – which I suffered with for the next hour. I never would have imagined that even in the mountains it would have been cool enough in the 6 o’clock hour to feel like I might need to switch on my heated grips. But… it was. As my engine thumped, I gave the occasional shudder as a result of the cold.

While you’re in the thick of things, you assume that your circumstances will be same everywhere. But often, if you just keep moving forward you can rise above the clouds and out in to a big hug of sunshine.

Riding out of the valley, I was treated to an incredible cloudless sky. Just behind me, the fog-covered valley along the river looked like the Maloja Snake.

There are so many lovely dirt roads that skirt the aprons of farms throughout northeastern Pennsylvania. I have persistent romantic notions about the lives lived in such places. It’s probably best that I never investigate the truth and carry on with my naïve and wistful ideas. They help to shape my perception of the good life.

A year ago, I talked about how it seems that once you see something, it becomes easier to do it again. Over the last few weeks I’ve experienced more examples of this being true. After never having seen the Starucca Viaduct until a few weeks ago, I found myself once more passing below its arches.

Could it just be that my brain subconsciously moved me through an area that was “familiar”? Probably. But I like to think it’s some sort of magic. Life is more fun that way.

This gorgeous dairy farm was along the way towards Route 6. My romantic imaginings have it occupied by an overall-wearing farmer who drives a tractor with heart shaped smoke that puffs from its exhaust stack. The cows with flower-crowns sing in their stalls. Every day a scarecrow waves good morning.

When I finally made it to Route 6, my first stop was the tiny old Meshoppen Fire Department building. It looked like you could pick it up and put it in your pocket. Instead, I left it where it was for the next person to enjoy and kept going west.

6 Replies to “Making My Way Toward Route 6”

  1. Reading your post and looking at the pictures I found myself wishing I could ride in Pennsylvania. And I live in Pennsylvania.

    You’re finding the magic that some riders search for — live for.

  2. Cold…hmm, I have vague memories of such a sensation. We may not feel that down here in Georgia until November. 😉

    Beautiful pictures and I agree, no need to seek out the reality of life in such an idyllic setting…let’s stick with cows with flower crowns!

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