Together is the Best Place to Be, Day 3: Heading for 100

Nova Scotia 2007
Day 3: Monday June 18
Copyright(c) 2007, Jim Beachy

“I’d like to get started a little earlier tomorrow,” I’d told Kitty last night. A normal Interstate travel day for us when we travel together is 500 or 600 miles, and about 300 miles on two-lane travel days. On poke-around days, all bets are off and we’ve had some of our best days riding under 100 miles. But today we have nearly 400 miles to cover, much of that on two-lane roads, hence my goal to get a good start in the morning.

Kitty is the early-morning person; I’m the late-morning person, so it’s always mystified me that Kitty needs to get up 90 minutes before departure. But she values her quiet time in the morning and the space to enjoy it, so she gets up at whatever time is necessary to make the agreed-upon departure time. However it happens, we’re ready for breakfast by 8:00 AM; unfortunately, the entire region is socked in by heavy fog. So while we wait for the fog to burn off until it’s safe to ride, I spend some time reminiscing about our past experiences. We’ve been in hailstorms; we’ve ridden through Tornado Alley in May, dodging nasty storm cells along with my Alamo Run friends; we’ve been in torrential downpours; and we have navigated our way carefully through fog so thick that it dripped off the bike mirrors. And once, we’ve ridden in snow that, while not sticking to the road, stuck to the windshield and created some interesting visibility problems. This trip has started out in the middle of a large high-pressure system that has brought crystal clear skies and cool temperatures to the entire US Northeast, although the temperatures are rising a bit. So that’s a great start to any trip.

And while we wait for the fog to diminish, how about a word regarding these little trip reports? They are being sent to quite a diverse group in addition to the WOTI list, and in deference to my biker friends and the WOTI list I will not take the time to describe the inner workings and hidden mechanisms of a motorcycle trip that we bikers take for granted. So for the rest of you, if you hear terms you don’t understand, well, just muddle through as best you can, ping me off line, or see me when I get home, and we’ll figure it all out.

By 9:00 AM the fog has burned off enough to see the surrounding mountains and for us to realize we’ve inherited another pristine, crystal-blue sky, so we’re out of here, headed eastward on US 6 through Pennsylvania. This route is a fantastic alternative to the Interstate because it offers a constantly-varying ride and great scenery while still enabling a relatively lively pace. The 80 miles between Mansfield and Scranton are a continuation of what we saw yesterday. It’s a sure bet that, when the road climbs a steep and winding hill, it is veering from the Susquehanna River that eventually feeds the Chesapeake Bay, and when it swoops down again to lower elevations and higher temperatures, you can be assured of finding the river on your right if you’re traveling eastward.

I have a confession to make: Regardless of my best attempts at planning slow-down trips, I always cram as much as I can into every trip. Given this, it seems that into every trip a little Interstate must appear. What I want to see compared to the time I have available always seems to require doing the Interstate Dance some time during the trip. And so it is today. Finishing out the 80-mile stretch of US 6 near Scranton, Pennsylvania, we follow a complicated GPS-generated route that takes us onto I-476, I-380, I-81, and eventually to I-84 eastbound, from where we will catch the New York Thruway (I-87) to Albany, then NY 7 and eventually VT 100, which is the next scheduled scenic leg of the trip. I remark to Kitty in the headset that Jill (one of a number of female GPS voices I can choose from) has provided impeccable instructions in this very complicated route around Scranton, perfectly announcing the next exits and positioning us in the proper lane for the next turn. “Flawless!” is Kitty’s comment. I’ve been a GPS aficionado since 2001 when Ray Smith and I rode from San Diego to Jacksonville in just over 48 hours, (during that trip I had a GPS unit drop-shipped from Kansas to our hotel in San Diego), but I’m still amazed at the technology and how fantastic it is. I’m a little embarrassed to say that I often don’t even know the routes I’m taking, I just follow Jill’s calm instructions in my headset and before I know it, I’m exactly where I planned to be.

Kitty has three cardinal rules for every one of our trips. Kitty’s Kardinal Rules. In order of importance, the first stands alone and is immeasurably More Important Than All the Rest: No Snakes. Any trip that involves a snake in any capacity, dead or alive, cannot by any standard be considered a complete success. Next to Kardinal Rule #1, all other Rules pale in comparison. But nevertheless, of great importance still are the remaining two Rules: No Cities, No Traffic.

I tell Kitty, “I think we’ve come close to violating two of your rules today.” I’m thinking of construction traffic along I-84, which came ever-so-close to violating the No Traffic rule. And now we’re near Albany, which comes ever-so-close to violating both the No Traffic and No City rules. The conglomeration of high-rise buildings and complicated streets off to my left as we juke around I-287 looks suspiciously like a city, although I don’t mention this to Kitty. “Well,” she sighs through the headset, “If you get us through this safely, you’re exonerated.” I do, and I hope I am.

Turning north on Vermont Rt. 100, we find a road that, for those of you who have ridden the Ozarks in Arkansas, reminds me for all the world of Rt. 7. It’s not quite as curve-filled but has a number of challenging downhill curves (which are always harder for me) as you run northward, and several right-angle curves that are heart-stopping if you haven’t put your big bike in the correct track. And thus to the tiny town of Londonderry, VT, where we arrive just before 6:00 PM.

When Kitty travels with me, I usually make reservations prior to the trip or at least by afternoon of the day we need the room. This morning, I had said “I haven’t made any reservations. The GPS says there are some motels and inns in Londonderry, but it’s a risk. Are we willing to take the risk that there’s nothing there or that everything is all booked up and be prepared to ride somewhere else to find a room?” She agreed and now, when the moment is upon us, I wonder how we’ll do. When I’m by myself, I don’t care: I’ll ride until midnight and if there’s nothing available, it’s Ok because I’ll just ride another two hours or until I do find a place to sleep. And there’s always the Iron Butt Motel, sleeping on a picnic bench or on the grass at a rest stop, with which I have considerable personal experience. But I’m more than a little uncomfortable with today’s arrangement, because I feel very protective of Kitty when we ride together and always want to find the perfect place for her.

We select the Oakmount Motel from the GPS list of accommodations, 0.9 miles west of the intersection of Rt. 100 and Rt. 11. “In 0.3 miles, turn right, then arrive at Oakmount Motel on left,” says Jill in my headset. I make the turn and look left for the motel, to find... only a bare field. “Well, that worked out really well!” I mutter into the headset. “I guess we’ll try something else.” It’s probably the mailing address for the Oakmount Motel, wherever it may actually be.

So we select the Swiss Inn, 1.2 miles farther on, and indeed there’s an inn with a few rooms and even fewer patrons. Kitty and I appear to be the only customers this night. The restaurant isn’t open at this time of year, but the rooms are nice enough and we decide to stay here. It’s less than a 2-mile ride back to the intersection where lies a shopping center with a restaurant. We have a nice dinner, ride back to the Swiss Inn and together clean the bike and trailer and cover it for the night. It is downright chilly here in the Green Mountains at over 2,000 feet above sea level. So my slightly risky plan pays off and all is well.

Except for the Internet thing. If you receive this message from the edge of the world — oh, no, wait, it’s only Vermont — it will be a testimony to the triumph of ingenuity over technology! There is no cell phone service, at least for Verizon. Apparently one of the Nextel executives lives in the next town and there’s wall-to-wall Nextel coverage, but nothing else. I’m quite sure there is no hi-speed Internet access. I will try to finagle the phone line but who knows how it will turn out.