.:Out of Chaos:.

Ride Report. Summer 2017. Bike, 2014 Moto Guzzi Stelvio. Total miles, 5,148. Days on road, 15.

Why go?

I am now in my 50th year on this planet. I had in that time a child, failed relationships/marriage and in a life that seems distant from what I had in mind years ago. It had been a long time since I had an adventure like I used to. I needed an adventure.

I had spent my twenties adventuring. I rock climbed, camped in winter, skied stuff people dreamed of, pushed my limits on mountain bikes and road bikes. I lived to to be out doors. Doing. I was that guy that you went to at the gear shop who knew how to use all the gear cause I used it. I gave clinics one how to climb, how to paddle. My advice was given on use of maps, tents, packs, trips and resources. I was photographed and seen in calendars, magazines and promotional material both print and local TV spots.  I was the dude at the top of the ski lift taking your pictures at Pico and Killington in Vermont. I spent a week, solo, hanging out at Tuckerman's ravine because I could. I slept in the woods at -40' below zero because I could. I would say aw fuck it and grab a pack and hike to the top of a mountain to sleep in a bivy until sunrise because I could.

Time went by and I had a child, upgraded my jobs through finishing college and leveraging contract work until I got to where I am now. Middle aged man with golden handcuffs. Paid in the top percentages of my job title and with a home and debt and now college bills for my kid. I can't just pack up and go like I used to. Even splitting for a weekend disappearing act is a challenge.

So why go? Why put myself out there with a risk of death, breakdown, extra incurred costs that could be problematic? Because I have to. Because I used to be that guy and I am not anymore. So I had to. A reason came up, a friends surprise birthday and the excuse to check in on my folks who are not getting younger, and I had to make it happen.

My motorcycle had passed the 18,000 mile mark on the odometer and needed a major service so I put on fresh tires and had all fluids changed and everything 'checked' for the trip. The cost was more than $600 over my estimate and I cringed, but I had to push forward. My heart soul and ego needed to know I still could pull something off that was extraordinary.

When the day came to head out and I was packed and on my machine with it running, and my wife in her night shirt taking a photo when she would rather be in bed, it felt kinda scary. I was heading out. Had I thought of everything? Was I prepared? Did I pack too much or too little? Was my plan going to work? I had thumbnail ideas of pushing for a long day to a hotel in Iowa then on to my sisters in Pittsburgh area for a few days. Catching up with nephews who I had not seen  much of and a sister who I could always spend more time with. Then the plan was to push on to Vermont to the folks place. I was able to include part of the route to go over an old dirt road to come in the back way to their place. A road I used to use as a short cut when I was a teenager. My wife, Missy, had flown in ahead of me to Vermont. Missy met me at the folks and we would spend a night at my parents, a night with her dad at the old family camp, a night with her sister up in Hinesburg. We then did a day trip to end up at an air-bnb in Montpelier to be at a surprise party for an old High School friend then back roads back to the sister-in-laws and drop off the wife who would fly back to Colorado while I checked in with two more friends from years past and a sister. Then I would wing it by going South to DC area and crash at a buddies I had not seen in almost thirty years and from there - the plan was just go see the Southern Appalachian Mountains. I had a possible place to stay near Ashville NC and a possible place to stay in Nashville TN. A definite place in KS for the run home and that was the plan. Wing it for a few days with a tent.

I had no idea how it would be pushing for miles on the highway. I had always avoided highway for anything more than the commute to work (hour one way on I-25 rush hour and then home) and grudgingly would add extra time on a highway to get home from bike rallies that where all about as many mountain passes in one day as possible and as many turns as possible. I would happily bail from a highway for back roads and the long way around. This trip, the first day was 750 plus miles. I pulled it off. I was beat. you have only so many fidget choices and with my hearing loss as it is I can't hear shit on my bike helmet speakers if I am doing anything over 35 mph. I knew I needed to take frequent breaks but had not faced that demon really. Over my past trips of ripping to Utah or Montana or points far in the West, it was always considered local. First day this time was about making a distance I had not done. Turns out a 500 or so mile day is preferred. while the first day was good weather and no big deal really, favorable winds at my back and only few fleeting rain drops. The second second day I pulled 650 miles. That second day hurt.

Day two included skirting Chicago, I was taking I-80 East from Cheyenne WY to Beaver PA, and Chicago road crews can suck my tail pipe. Road construction cone zones and routing on iPhone/Google did not play clear and I almost got rear ended as I tried to catch what I thought was the translation of where to go, only to find I had a 5 mile one way around Gary Indiana detour before I could u-turn and try again. Fuckers. Now is a good time to mention that part of my planning included Ram-IT holder for the iPhone in a LifeProof case and a Garmin InReach for the features. The Google routing on the iPhone are usable and funny when you go off reservation to only have a blue dot and a line telling you where to go when you  drop out of coverage by cell tower. The Garmin gave me detail I could refer to and it gave me satellite messaging if I found I was in a valley with out cell and it also gave tracking of route on a web page so folks could follow along. HTTPS://Share.Garmin.com/JustinMead and to that point... later... my dad kept sending me emails about my choices. He was monitoring my movement like a hawk. So day two, what made it brutal? Heavy winds for hours on my starboard kept buffeting me and heat baked my brain. I made the wrong choice at one point to push on past a rest stop for the next one and in the heat and discomfort and fatigue I coughed at a throat tickle and almost passed out. I had tunnel vision and scared my self a bit. Crap. When I pulled into a rest stop near Birmingham OH I was cooked.

Yet before I got inside I had an encounter with an almost 75 year old guy from Utah that reminded me of my Grandfather. He said 'blessings' before he got back into his car. And inside after I was crashed out on a bench in all my road gear, I had the most charming talk with an elderly couple that the lady at first blush I was sure was a witch. I loved her. She was delightful in her suggestions about ginger and finger twiddling for 'energy' and her very Jewish gentleman friend. They made me smile. That break helped me out. Cooled off and got my mind back. I had a decision to make. Find a hotel or push through a two more hours and possible storm. I thought since the next day was forecast at mostly rain all day, I should go for it. The squall line looked like I might get in between the severe stuff.

I was wrong. I rode right through natures equivalent of a car wash. First gear, flashers on, cars pulling over left and right to wait it out and my iPhone telling me my turn was pending to take a 'bear left' to get to my sisters place. It was about ten minutes of pure stress. Visibility of less than fifty feet  standing water on the road

As the sky lightened and cars began to accelerate, as did I; I flipped my visor open and yelled "I'm ALIVE!" to Mother Nature. I still had more to go to get to my sisters. The road was empty and the Pennsylvania hills where misty and deep green. My bike was acting up and sputtering after the miles the heat the rain and it was acting like a leaned out race bike sputtering coughing backfiring and wanting to run not sit down into 35 mph town speeds. As i started recognizing the town looking for the turn into the right neighborhood, I was also starting to come down from the hardest day of the trip. Pulling into her garage and seeing Allison come bounding out all tears and kids joining her and the bike barking, climbing off the Guzzi and out of my rain suite my leathers my protective padded layer and the beauty boots and the soaked gloves and knowing I had a few days of recovering of porch time of kid time and of rest. I was relieved. This was the big test. Colorado to Pittsburg area in two days of highway slab grind. I passed. I made it. I didn't die. We wont talk about the Gary Indiana/Chicago area that can go fuck itself for the road work cone zones absolutely frenetic traffic and the roads that dont align to signs. That area needs a construction family ass kicking. Someone is making money and its not the in the public interest.

Allison and Mike had a huge home cooked meal waiting for me. Steak mashers asperrigus and a beer.  A shower and a bed. Thank you Ella for allowing me to crash in your gnosis pad of books windows couch and good vibe. Spending two days here in Beaver PA allowed me to recover and to bond with the youngest two nephews and connect with Allison with good quiet porch time. They have an awesome porch.

Day three of road travel was only 550 miles. After the 750 and the 650 days, 550 seemed like a cakewalk and seems to be the good day run number. The weather was perfect puffy popcorn clouds and mellow temps and New York throughway. I realized what I like most is the random interactions with random people. Folks would ask what that was I was riding. Where was I from. How do I like riding the highway compared to back roads. Why I was traveling. Where I was going. I like people.

People are the best part of trips.

The cool part of day three was pulling off the highway and taking a shortcut through Balson Spa NY towards Whitehall and Lake  Bomoseen And the short cut up over the dirt road past High Pond and dropping into my parents driveway. I actually giggled my ass off on Old High Pond Road. I was on my motorcycle from Colorado and rolling through hills that I hadn't been in for 30 years.

Coming around a corner I saw my dad up ahead ready for a photo. He had been watching my progress all the way and there he was. Missy met me at my folks and I took a long shower and had one of my moms home cooked meals and we watched for fire flies off the back porch.

At my folks we managed to connect with the Sargent family whom my sisters and I grew up with  and seeing Dave and Judy was a treat. We then mowed my parents yard making mom very happy. Taking off to get to  teh Bird Family camp for day two of Vermont, Missy had put her phone on top of the luggage on the back of the bike and it fell off about a half mile from folks place. Technology is cool. We could log in to Find My Phone and see exactly where it was. Getting to the camp was only a quick 15 minute hop up the road and coming down the driveway was oh shit. Off camber and steep and I was top heavy two up and the area had new road base/gravel. Shit. Didn't drop the bike but it was a challenge. Unloading everyone, wife and baggage and seeing where the phone was I blitzed it back to  corner. In the process I pulled the first wheely on the Guzzi. It seems that she was just really starting to break in. The motor was getting more spunky.

At the camp the dawn was epic. Classic Fern Lake rain and thunderstorm. I just love small lakes and thunderstorms. I got up early and enjoyed a coffee and the rain. My dad had things he wanted to share and Missy was still sleeping so I ran over to see what dad had to show me. Dick had gotten back from work as it was too wet to mow at the golf course and he let me borrow his car. Dad showed me books and notes and  memories and we talked. When I got back to the lake I helped Dick clean moss off the roof of the camp and then took a refreshing skinny dip in the lake to cool off. Managed to goad Missy to join me in the lake for a swim. Thank God. After that with a rain storm pending we loaded up the bike and ran up the road to Hinnesburg to Missy's sisters place.

Hinnesburg was a R&R for sure. When Steve got home we all jumped up to Burlington for a sea food feast and then in the morning we loaded up for a day trip into Canada via the Grand Islands and then over to Montpelier for an Air-B-n-B and a surprise party for Ken Russel from High school and his turning 50. Fun party. What is notable was the epic choice of route Missy did for us with the Grand Isle to Alburg to Canada and lunch and then hook across and down a side road back into USA via Berkshire and Eden and Montgomery Center. What gorgeous country.

After the party and sleep we took a dirt road past the Huntington Gorge and back to Hinnesburg we snagged brunch when my dad managed to show up with my sister Andrea. Hugs all around and then on with journey, dropping Missy off at her sisters, Eric Masterson-Mott showed up for a hello and as he left, large hail showed up and then once finally fully packed I headed back to Burlington to see Karin K and then my sister and her family and then spend the night chilling with old college buddy, James L. Jim and I wandered to a small establishment and talked about the meaning of life and politics. Then the first week was over.

Week two saw me skipping back through WhiteHall NY and down past NYC into D.C to find Jonathan and his family. He is the youngest of the three Sargent family clan I grew up with. Rachel and Jon fed me food and suggested I ride to see the Skyline drive in VA. Good call. Oh My GAWD was it a good call. En route I took SR 601 off of route 7. This took me up to the hill tops and past  a huge FEMA installation. I stopped at a local corner store for refreshments and talked with more interesting southern people. This one guy had a slew of motorocycle stories about old machines and then I hit Skyline Drive. Damn.

To describe this road is to say it was overload of perfect turns epic views and perfect turns. It just kept  going for 105 miles of epic.

Oh that.

The 17th century philosopher Blaise Pascal, it seems, the French thinker had a knack for psychology. As Brain Pickings points out, Pascal set out the most effective way to get someone to change their mind, centuries before there was any formal study of persuasion:

When we wish to correct with advantage, and to show another that he errs, we must notice from what side he views the matter, for on that side it is usually true, and admit that truth to him, but reveal to him the side on which it is false. He is satisfied with that, for he sees that he was not mistaken, and that he only failed to see all sides. Now, no one is offended at not seeing everything; but one does not like to be mistaken, and that perhaps arises from the fact that man naturally cannot see everything, and that naturally he cannot err in the side he looks at, since the perceptions of our senses are always true.

Pascal added:

People are generally better persuaded by the reasons which they have themselves discovered than by those which have come into the mind of others

In reading (scanning rapidly really) I came across this::

What? 

You have have to have a dream yes.