I set off early the next morning, wanting to have the other BDR riders behind me in case I fell. Found the village breakfast cafe ( the one the locals frequent is always the best ) and left well fed and warm. The route wandered West past a big lake and across into New Hampshire before the final Northward push to the Border. The gravel road was lined by low trees now taking on rich fall color. I was confronted with a trench cut across the road, which I deftly drove into and then couldnt exit... eventually got myself out again. The road got worse, with the final test at Rhubarb Pond where it bumped through some mud and then closed to a three foot track. It emerged into a clearing with a cross in the middle, and John 3:16 carved into it. Not sure if there are rules regarding the separation of Church and Motorcycle, but it was good to see.
Then I turned and started back. The usual emotional sequence began. I stopped feeling anxious about obstacles and ruts. I started to think about where to spend the night. I had already seen the view, taken the pics,
watched the leaves... when all of a sudden, standing in the pegs rounding a corner on the shifty gravel surface, I heard a roar. I looked up and shouted, and so did he. Then the leader of the three man band of BDR brothers on a big KTM clattered past me going North. Nary a wave. Just a get out of my way gesture by each of us as we rattled off in opposite directions. They were going to make it to the end, just as I had.
I saw them again at the first gas station, 20 miles down the road. I stopped to pump my tires and have some lunch. They came up half an hour later, to fix a puncture and get a bite to eat. We exchanged pleasantries about the near miss and destinations. It was a long way back to Ohio where they were from.
I think Virginia is further though -- took me two days to get home. Spent the first night in Woodsville NH. The motel there, the Nootka Lodge, has the biggest rooms ever. Its great! The next day I wandered South along the Connecticut River -- a really nice
traffic free road -- and then cut across Vermont through Rutland, over to Troy NY, and South on the NY thruway to Summit NJ for old times sake.
I stayed at the Grand Summit Hotel. Built in 1929 it was grand then, a little frayed now, but still old world elegant. I liked it. I was in the middle of Summit NJ on a Friday evening. What were the effects of Covid on the summer scene ? I walked into town to find that the restaurants had taken over road space, and set up outside. Two blocks were closed off. With tables under umbrellas and waiters rushing in and out of their respective kitchens, it was one big socially spaced rambunctious street party. Had a great meal outside overlooking the railroad station.
I took the Harrisburg route home the next day. Lunched at a Sheetz which I have grown to love -- their food is fresh and varied, their coffee is good, and their staff are well mannered and gracious. Their digital tire pump is better than that of any other gas station.
really pretty. A local priest had advocated for it for many years. I sat at the picnic table, savoring the goldenrod around the pond and the view of South Mountain in the background. Then two little puppies tumbled into the grass before me. One gray, one tan. They ran at each other, nipping and twisting and rolling on the ground. Behind them came a 6 year old boy, picking up one and then the other for a hug. More slowly came the dad, bearded and dark, clearly delighting in the romp before us. Mom came over and stood by me, watching and smiling. I asked how long they had owned the dogs. One of them had been picked up that very day. for the older one. They are bred as service dogs, she confided. They are very well known for their loyalty, their upbeat personalities, and the stability of their emotions. Why ? I asked. He suffers from PTSD she replied quietly. They will help.
I was back home by mid afternoon. I had covered some 2,430 miles on this outing.
