We arrived at the camp to find 80% of the gang already there and suiting up to head out for a ride. We said our “hellos” and watched them as they rode away to get dirty. In the meantime, Kenny and I unloaded our stuff and set up camp.

As a few more stragglers arrived we decided to take a road ride around to see a little bit of the area. In reality we really went to get beer but just happened to take the long way around. We arrived back at camp to find a BBQ in full swing and spent the remainder of the evening laughing, sitting by the campfire and just enjoying being outdoors. It was a great night.

On Sunday morning we headed off to Tuckers Pub in Sandisfield for the ride sign-in where there was already a good crowd of bikes assembled.

The ride was listed as a big bike friendly dual sport ride. It was a mixture of some paved roads, dirt roads and unmaintained woods roads. There were also 5 hero sections available to riders who were looking for something a bit more challenging. I avoided those altogether, even the one marked as ‘easy’  near the end of the route. Everyone told me that it was no more challenging than some of the regular route sections when I met them on the other side. I guess I was completely put off by the fact that it was tagged as a hero section. My biggest hurdle is apparently my lack of confidence, not so much my lack of riding ability.

Kenny is officially my hero

Initially I was going on this ride alone but at the last minute Kenny was able to come along on the big bomber GS, which is fitted with regular street tires. Between the two of us having little and  no experience riding offroad we didn’t know what to expect from the route. My brain imagined something like hard-packed dirt roads. Neither he nor I imagined ruts, golf ball sized gravel and wet rocks. I’ll chalk this up to both of us being noobs.

It was Kenny’s first time riding offroad. He bravely navigated that big, heavy beast through everything that came his way. Sure there was some cursing and a few scary moments but he clearly has a skill that I was unaware of. I would have cried and packed it in at the first sight of a rocky uphill climb. But, he didn’t. He soldiered on and I’m really proud of him. I see a dirt bike in his future.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Up to this point any of my wimpy tip-toeing through the dirt had been a scary and frustrating exercise. Everything changed during this ride. I don’t know if I was just in a better mindset being with people that I know and trust or if I was finally mentally ready to just hand myself over to the process a little more.

I felt great all through the ride. I worked at keeping my speed up and my eyes looking further ahead. Both of these things helped tremendously. I was able to stay with the group and wasn’t gripped by fear. That’s a new sensation for me on something other than tar. In retrospect, I feel like it was the speed that helped most.

I came away from this ride feeling excited and very much looking forward to next time!

• Berkshire Trailriders Association
• White Pines Campground
• ADVRider.com

Have you heard that expression Good from far, far from good? I’m just sayin’…

On the way up to Vermont this weekend, we stopped off to visit the Tin Man of Goshen, Massachusetts. I didn’t even know that he had a name, really. I usually just see him out of the corner of my eye as we are whizzing by. On Friday afternoon as we passed him, I looked in my mirror and saw Kenny nod, with that we pulled a quick u-turn and stopped for a visit.

The tin man will probably be the thing that draws many a traveller to stop, but the real gem of the stop is everything else that lives in the yard and on the building. It is a veritable feast of repurposed material artwork.

The most striking aspect of our stop was the garden that is hidden from view of the roadway. It is the work of  man on a mission, Richard whom we had the good fortune of talking to for a few minutes.

I love meeting people who follow their hearts. Its such a simple concept that seems to elude so many of us~

Check Richard and his work out here: http://www.threesistersgarden.com/

I turned on the Ipod and shoved off at about 6:30 am.

Vermont seems to be a rolling succession of picturesque little towns and villages that proudly line their main street with American flags on every telephone pole. It really harkens to a seemingly long forgotten piece of innocent America.

Between these small towns is a weathered yet charming string of farms and rural homesteads. I quietly wonder how people are so lucky to have the strength to choose a life that appears to be so much less cluttered on the surface. I don’t want to know the reality of what their lives are like, i want my dream.

Meandering east, I cross into New Hampshire.

Sometimes you know you’re walking this world on your own, don’t you?

According to Roadside America, Warren, NH is the only town that apparently has a Redstone Rocket on display. Goshalmighty, if that isn’t reason enough to stop for visit, I don’t know what is!

Fog on the Kanc.
I set the ole self-timer on the camera and also took a pic of myself standing there. But being the buffoon I am, I somehow managed to capture myself doing what appears to be ‘The Robot’ in my raingear. Perhaps if I’m feeling masochistic later I will post it up.

Here it is. My moment of glory!

This is as far as I made it up the Auto Road.

The very nice lady at the tollbooth sheepishly walked over and said, ‘I’m sorry, honey. We’re closed to bikers today.’ It took about 20 seconds for what she was saying to register in my brain. Apparently after Laconia Bike Week, the dirt road had become degraded and unsafe to bikes and was being repaired.

So… I visited Mount Washington from across the street over a turkey sandwich. Typical.

There it is, up in the clouds. So close, yet so far.

I called Kenny and gave him the lowdown on my aborted summit attempt. He kind of chuckled and said, ‘Of Course.’ As i stood there looking at the mountain, the weather began to roll and tumble.

Maximus: ‘At my signal, unleash hell!’
And it did. The rain dogged me all day from this point on. This was the last pic I took trying to escape the onslaught.

There were so many spots I rolled past and said, ‘I’ll snap a pic on the way back.’ It proved to be foolish on my part. The thunder and lightning kept me moving. Lesson learned…maybe.

Moments in time are fleeting. Stop and smell the roses.

]]> http://www.fuzzygalore.com/2007/06/a-day-late-and-a-dollar-short/feed/ 3 http://www.fuzzygalore.com/2007/06/in-to-each-life/ http://www.fuzzygalore.com/2007/06/in-to-each-life/#comments Fri, 22 Jun 2007 02:05:52 +0000 Fuzzygalore http://localhost/?p=10000081 …a little rain must fall.

The steam rolled along the blacktop, slicking up the already treacherous tar-snakes of Mass. Route 23.

Thursday afternoon I packed up my tankbag and headed north to Vermont. I seemed to be chasing the tail of the rain and was thankful I hadn’t caught up to it yet.

Of course, when I go thinking… that’s when things all end up going south. This was pretty much the last I saw of the sun for the next 24 hours.

…to be continued.

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