Category: Pennsylvania

I took a hundred-mile ride today in the company of my pal Wiggus, who rides a sweet Triumph motorcycle with a much bigger engine than Zaphod’s. I didn’t ask him, when it was all said and done, how much slower than normal he’d had to ride, because I was afraid he might tell me. Truth be told, I don’t think he had to throttle down that much. Those winding Central PA roads tend to even out the size of one’s engine.

So that’s the route up above. Believe me when I tell you that the map can’t even begin to represent the beauty of this drive.

The first part of the ride, over the mountain in the direction of Hungtindon, was one I’ve taken a couple times before. In fact, I first did it on Vroomfondel (photos). And I rode part of Route 305 just the other day. But today we took 305 much further. And it was stunning.

I don’t have a picture of most breathtaking moment, which was coming around a corner to see a wall of mountains to the right and a mile-wide swath of farm fields between the road and the mountains, all of it stretching away over the horizon. I can’t remember if this happened before or after Martinsburg, but I do remember the tingle that ran up my spine when we rounded the bend and saw this majestic vista.

We made it to Martinsburg only to discover that Mamie’s Cafe, our destination, was closed on Sunday. I peeked in through the window and it looked lovely. A counter covered in pastries and cakes and pies, with classic round tables and wooden chairs visible through an archway. Definitely worth a return trip.

Wiggus knew of a place in Huntingdon, so we headed up Clover Creek Road and over the mountain to get there. At one point we were passed, fairly dangerously, by four guys on crotch rockets. They whipped around Wiggus and me and the car ahead of us, all uphill around a blind curve. All four survived. Later we were passed by their two friends, one of whom barely missed hitting an oncoming Harley, the driver of which was not amused, if his gesture was any indication.

The joint in Huntingdon was also closed, because this is central PA, so we ended up getting drinks and snacks at Sheetz and then coming home via 26.

Going back up the mountain on 26 I started losing power, but Wiggus pointed out that it was likely a fuel delivery problem, and when I thought about it, that made sense. I was nearly out of gas, going up a steep grade with the throttle wide open.

We parted ways to our respective homes shortly thereafter. A fabulous day, and definitely not my last ride with Wiggus.

Perusing Steve Williams’ Scooter In The Sticks blog, I came across this line from Lao Tzu: “A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” This is similar to the idea of “pashal,” which I’ve explored in two poems.

The quotation and the concept are apt descriptions of today’s ride. I was sitting on the couch around 5:30, listening to the Red Sox and playing Triple Town, when I suddenly realized that I wanted to be on my scooter. Five minutes later I was out the door with no idea where I was headed.

I drove north on North Atherton, heading toward Park Forest and beyond. Wound through some neighborhood streets till I ended up on Valley Vista Drive. Because I seldom know where I am or where I’m headed (I’m stilling learning my way around), I ended up crossing back over Atherton, onto the expressway. I got off at College then took a random right onto Puddintown Road. And that led to the adventure.

Eventually, after exploring a few small, newly built neighborhoods, I took a left onto Rock Road. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Later in the ride, I figured out why I knew it. I zipped around the curves and up and down the rolling hills. As I came around a turn, I passed Big Hollow Road to my left. I decided on the spot to try it, so I turned around.

It’s a paved road with trees close in on both sides. I love this kind of riding. I was minutes from home but the densely packed strip malls of my neighborhood were hard to even imagine in this setting. And then, not to far along, even the pavement was gone and I was on a narrow dirt road.

As you know if you know me, I never wanted to live in Central PA, but having a scooter has given me a greater appreciation for the countryside here. I can leave work or leave home and within 10 minutes be in a dense forest with turkey vultures lumbering through the air just above my head. I saw three of them on Big Hollow Road, both as I was going out and coming back. They were in the same spot both times — a rocky dip beside the road. I couldn’t see what they were eating.

My Aprilia Scarabeo 150 has two things that make it especially fun: a Rotax engine and big wheels. The former means it goes much, much faster than a typical 150cc engine. The latter means it handles dirt roads with relative ease.

Down the dirt road we sped, passing even smaller side roads, most of which were probably private roads leading to a single house. Eventually, even the dirt road ended. There was a nice house with a big yard at the end. Just to the left of the road was a path leading off deeper into the woods. The path was two sets of mostly overgrown tire tracks. Of course I took the path.

Eventually I came to a gate. I had absolutely no idea where I was, or where this path might lead. I now know it’s the Arboretum To Spring Creek Canyon Trail (PDF brochure). I walked up the trail just enough to realize that bug spray would be essential to any enjoyment of this path. I’m not ashamed. I’m more of an indoor kid.

Click for larger versions.

Then it was back to Rock Road, which winds along Spring Creek, hugging the water tight. Water is very important to me. This is one of the few times in my life I haven’t lived near a big body of water, usually either a Great Lake or an ocean. I get a thrill each time I spot a creek or a pond. And I’m still excited by the feeling of cruising along on Zaphod beside running water.

I stopped at a wooden bridge across Spring Creek that served as the entrance to someone’s driveway. I-99/Route 220 passed overhead like two massive contrails. I thought about how people had probably used Spring Creek for transportation hundreds (thousands?) of years before anyone thought to mar the landscape with highways.

I continued down Rock Road till it met up with Fox Hill Road, which runs past the airport. It was then I realized why I knew Rock Road — I use it, briefly, when I take the back way to Bellefonte. I watched a single-prop plane land as I passed, headed for home and more baseball.

My original plan was to ride to Rochester, NY, and back today. But the weather forecast convinced me otherwise, showing big storms along the route and flash flood warnings on my return. Instead, after a quiet morning drinking miso soup and listening to podcasts, I popped out the door and onto Zaphod (my new-to-me Aprilia Scarabeo 150) with no destination in mind. A pashal, I think it’s called.

I headed out Blue Course Drive and just kept going, eventually meeting up with Route 26 and then with Route 45, which is the path I decided upon. I’d been on it once before to go to Shingletown Gap, but I wasn’t sure where it went after that. I saw a sign for Lewisburg, home of Bucknell University, and decided to make that my destination.

Right at the beginning of the trip, Zaphod hit a mileage milestone:

Little did I know, because I really don’t know the area well at all, that 45 runs right through Millheim, the place people always mention as an exception whenever I talk about how right-wing Central PA is.

Millheim is a lovely little oasis, with an art gallery, at least two excellent music venues, and a nice coffee shop.

All but the latter were closed at 11 a.m. on a Thursday, so I stopped to take the photo above and then moved on down 45, not stopping again till I reached Lewisburg.

Lewisburg is a pretty town. It looks more like my image of a college town than State College does, but it also seemed very boring. In its defense, the semester is over, so maybe the place is crawling with students during Bucknell’s school year. But Penn State’s year is over, too, and State College is still lively. Quieter than normal, certainly, but not a ghost town like Lewisburg. Still, there were quite a few nice buildings to look at. And they have public poetry, including a poem by Natasha Tretheway, who just ended her term as poet laureate of the United States.

I took the obligatory scooter photo and pointed Zaphod west to go home.

On the way home, I stopped in Millheim again to visit singer/songwriter/community organizer/event guru Erin Condo. If you haven’t yet, you should hear Erin’s album Love And Lightning, which you can buy here. Erin was at the Bremer Town Ballroom, as were her two little boys and her sister-in-law, who is also a friend of mine. We had a lovely visit. In fact, I wrote a poem about it. Then I drove home just in time to beat the rain.

My scooter riding wasn’t done, though, because Erin played later in the evening at The State Theatre as the opener for Iris Dement. I rode into town wearing a bow tie under my bike jacket. And a shirt and pants and stuff, too. Erin played a set of her songs. She’s a great storyteller.

Iris Dement was, as usual, completely wonderful. In fact, the whole day was just perfect.