Man In The Maze

by Rich Luhr, Editor of Airstream Life magazine

The Black Flies ride

For quite a while I’ve been anticipating an unusual event as part of this year’s Airstream trip to the northeast.  My brother spent the winter acquiring and refurbishing a pair of BMW motorcycles, which we planned to take on a tour.  I just got back from that trip a few days ago, and finally have a chance to write it up.  I’ll post blogs about the trip over the next three days, starting with today.

Motorcycling was never something I had planned to return to.  My last bike was a Yamaha 550, sold in 1989 after I realized that it just wasn’t fitting into my life anymore.  It was fun, but I never looked back, until Steve started sending me links to stories of “adventure” riders who have ridden their BMW motorcycles on long and treacherous roads in remote parts of the world.  At this point in my life, a motorcycle still didn’t fit and I had even more reasons not to get back into it, but eventually I softened on the issue and began buying the necessary gear.

I’ve already described my first ride in the previous blog entry.  We had planned to take a three-day tour through New York’s Adirondack region starting Tuesday (see map below), but the weather got iffy and none of us were eager to ride in the rain.  So on Tuesday we used the clear morning hours to take a local tour through Vermont, up to Rt 100 and back, which (with various zig-zags on dirt roads past numerous farms) gave me another 80 miles of touring practice before the rain arrived.

This also gave us time to prepare. Eric’s Ural needed a little more tweaking of the drum brakes, which are weak at the best of times, and Emma was still at work painting up some black Airstream Life t-shirts for our gang.  We named ourselves “The Black Flies”:  Steve, Rich, Eric, and Colin.  Each of us adopted a gang name.  Mine was “Wally”, Steve was “Pusher,” Eric with his Russian-made Ural & sidecar was “Putin,” and Colin was “Axel” (deliberately misspelled).  We pledged to wear the shirts all three days no matter how stinky they got, and almost managed it.

On Wednesday the weather was clear again.  Steve, Eric, and I rolled out of the driveway and a few miles to the Charlotte-Essex ferry that crosses Lake Champlain.  In the hamlet of Essex NY, we met up with Colin and his thunderous 1980s-era Harley FLHT “shovelhead.”  It looked like a black limousine with four inches of ground clearance, a typical Harley of the era, with plenty of added chrome, huge saddlebags, and a “King Of The Highway” emblem.

As Colin noted, the Harley was basically the equivalent of two BMWs, since it had twice the number of cylinder (two to our one), twice the engine displacement (1350 cc versus our 650 cc engines) and weighed nearly twice as much.  These characteristics proved to be highly relevant later, especially the fuel economy.  The BMWs got a steady 69 MPG, while the Harley and the Ural were running more like 29 MPG, with the same size fuel tank.  As a result, we stopped for fuel a lot but Steve and I only filled up every other stop.

From the very beginning the ride was spectacular.  After all the practice the bike was beginning to feel like a part of my body, which is exactly what you want, and the sun was shining, and the roads were sensuously curvy.  We browsed through the towns of Essex, Port Henry, Mineville, and Schroon, taking every off-beat twisty road we could find.  I leaned into the corners with a feeling of absolute freedom, remembering why motorcyclists love to ride.

It wasn’t long, however, before Steve’s route plan began to challenge Colin’s Harley.  That thing was built for straight-line highway cruising, and Colin wasn’t sure at first how much he wanted to lean it.  He came up to speed fast, especially when we went off-road a little to explore a defunct amusement park in the woods.

A few hours later, we hit the first long dirt road of the trip, and had to pause for a conference before proceeding.  Could Colin’s bike make it?  The road was 30 miles long of single-lane former logging road that was only marginally improved.  Every inch of it was either a pothole or a FBR (Big Rock) embedded in the road, and with the road dappled by sun filtering through the trees overhead it was difficult to see what was coming.  If you took your eyes off the road for a split-second, it was virtually guaranteed that another FBR would arise directly in front of you.

Colin and the Harley’s low-slung crankcase miraculously survived this treatment, with good humor to boot.  Riding the BMWs, Steve and I were in paradise. This road was like a game for our deeply-suspended bikes, and I soon found myself dodging and weaving around the obstacles at 30 MPH with pleasure.  This sort of road (or worse) is exactly what these bikes were made for.  The 30 miles disappeared far too quickly for me.

We eventually found ourselves in the village of Old Forge, and from there rode a relatively boring stretch of highway all the way to the Adirondack Inn at Long Lake, where we stopped for dinner.  After dinner the air had dropped into the 50s and it took every stitch of warm layers I had to survive the 15 mile ride at dusk to our cabin at Blue Mountain Lake.  The other problem with riding at dusk is that the bugs and animals come out, so by the end I was tired of watching for deer and my visor was coated with smashed insects.  We had been out for 11 hours.

The cabin was borrowed for the night.  We were under orders to return it in immaculate condition, and that was a bit of pressure for four guys but we managed.  The hot water was off, which prevented the glorious pre-bedtime shower I would have liked, but Eric got the hot water going for the morning.  We divvied up the beds, wiped the bugs off the visors, split a half-gallon of ice cream, and crashed by 11 p.m.  It had been an awesome day, and we were all looking forward to more…

Sunday cruise

When we drive through New York’s Adirondack Mountains in June, heading to Vermont, it seems we always encounter a little light rainshower.  This year held to the rule, and I was noting that despite the dampness there were a lot of motorcyclists heading south in large groups.  It was the last day of Americade, a big annual gathering of bikers in upstate New York.

Further north the weather was gorgeously clear, fantastic conditions for a ride, and there were even more bikers to be seen.  Watching them sweep through the curves of the sinuous roads made me think forward to the ride that we’ve got planned this week, which will also be in the Adirondacks.  It has been over two decades since I rode a motorcycle, and frankly I’ve been very thoughtful and a bit nervous about the prospect.

On Saturday after we had parked the Airstream and set up, I finally had a chance to inspect my ride.  It’s a BMW F650 GS “Dakar”.  It’s categorized as a “dual sport” bike, meaning that it rides tall almost like a dirt bike but is equally comfortable on pavement.  The bike was renovated by my brother over the winter, along with his identical ride, supervised by my father the aircraft mechanic, so I had confidence that all of the systems were in good order.  I sat on the BMW and manipulated the controls, wondering if I really remembered how it all worked or if I was just kidding myself.

Sunday morning was my first chance to actually take it out.  We were joined by Eric, who brought his 1996 Russian-made Ural motorcycle with sidecar.  The Ural is no hot rod, but it gets plenty of attention on the road.  It has two distinct benefits:  (1) it isn’t really geared for highway speeds, so we have a good excuse to go slowly; (2) the sidecar provides a great place for us to store extra gear and the tools & spare parts that a Ural inevitably needs when on a roadtrip.  The Ural marks its territory wherever it parks (meaning, it leaks).  It also gets poorer fuel economy than our Honda Fit.  Eric thinks it gets something like 15 rubles to the hectare, or something like that.  It’s hard to say since the speedometer isn’t accurate and all the gauges are in Russian.

(The photo is of me and friend Kathy posing on the Ural.  We weren’t going anywhere.  My normal riding gear includes an armored high-visibility jacket, helmet, gloves, and steel-toed boots.)

The BMW turned out to be an excellent bike.  It fired up smoothly and clunked into first gear exactly like my old Yamaha 550.  I cautiously ran it up the driveway about 35 feet just to see if I could.  I didn’t fall off and I didn’t stall, but that was probably because of the silky-smooth clutch that made shifting easy, and the comfortable riding position. But the big test was ahead.  I wasn’t worried about the motorcycle, I was concerned about myself.

We set off. At first I had to get re-acquainted with the sensations I’d forgotten: the pressure of wind on your chest, the feel of the suspension on the bumps, the thumping of the one-cylinder engine.  Then I started thinking about smoothness.  Despite the forgiving clutch, I had a few shifts that were embarrassingly clunky, and I had to remind myself, just flick the throttle. Don’t over-analyze it.  The less I thought about the shifting, the smoother it became, which is the sign that your muscle memory is ahead of your conscious brain.  When that happens, it’s time to relax and put your cerebrum onto another task.

Before we’d gone a few miles down the road I knew my neighbor Frank was right when he told me that you never forget how.  I stopped worrying about whether I’d remember which pedal was the brake, and started focusing on situational awareness.  My use of the controls needed a few hours of polishing, but I knew that the key to a successful ride was going to be my ability to anticipate what was coming and know what my responses would be.  In other words, don’t doze along and then react hurriedly when something “unexpected” happens, be ready.  It’s the same thing I do when towing the Airstream.

We took the long way through the towns of Charlotte and Shelburne VT on this absolutely perfect day.  Numerous bikers were on the road, along with cyclists participating in a road race.  Our goal was simply to explore some varying roads and shake out any problems with the bikes or the drivers.  After about 30 minutes we stopped at a friend’s house, then went on to breakfast at the Dutch Mill, and then to the big-box stores to pick up a few last-minute items.

I attached a GoPro Hero2 video camera to the top of my helmet, and shot a little video along the way just to see how it worked.  33 minutes of video have been edited down to two and a half minutes, so if you want to waste a couple of minutes of your day you can watch it here.

We had an interesting episode on the ferry across Lake Champlain, from New York to Vermont, on Saturday.  I was directed to pull the Airstream straight on to the ferry, which would put the streetside next to the center wall.  As always, I pulled up carefully, eyeing the trailer in the mirror.  The crew member who was directing us forward looked confused, then said loudly,”You can’t see that trailer, can you?”  Well, of course I can see my own trailer.  It’s the big shiny thing in the mirror.

I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up through the windshield to reassure him, but for some reason he really was convinced that the Airstream was invisible to me.  Maybe it was because I was inching the Airstream closer to the wall (I figured they’d want me to be tight to it, as ferries are usually short on space for large vehicles).  He might have thought I wasn’t aware that the trailer was within 6 inches of the wall by the time I finishing pulling in, and that I was going to hit the wall.  Then he yelled, “You need towing mirrors!”  Hm. I don’t have anything against towing mirrors, but in the space I had, they would have needed to be folded in anyway, so they’d be useless in this situation.

I get variations on this a lot.  It’s a rare stop when somebody doesn’t come up and question our choice of tow vehicle, or “help” us park, or even (and this really happened) suggest that we unhitch on a hill so that he can tow us up instead.  I’m all for learning new things, but in most cases the people who are trying to help us with towing issues don’t know what they are talking about.  We just smile and then get the job done.

Point Comfort campground, Piseco NY

I’ve noticed that when we are traveling, hardly any day is truly uneventful.  Even the fairly dull days have changes of scenery, new discoveries, or at least problems to solve.  This sort of constant input to the senses is something that I think we all start to miss when we are house bound for too long.

Today is a good example.  Our drive along the New York State Thruway (I-90) was designed by road engineers to be just interesting enough to keep the drivers from falling asleep.  Gentle curves through the green countryside remind us that there is some small skill required to keep the rig on the road.  The Thruway rest areas are all about the same, and unless you escape via a toll booth, there is nowhere else to go.

But as always, the experience you get depends on what you bring to the table.  We made a minor event out of the first Thruway stop because it meant Eleanor could go to the Tim Horton’s there and get the coffee she likes.  It also meant, of course, that we could all try a donut—as if we didn’t still have eight massive Amish maple creme donuts inside the Airstream.

I played other mental games along the long concrete strip of I-90, such as “find the cheap diesel fuel,” “spot the distracted driver,” and a perennial favorite, “outguess Garminita.”  Eventually we exited I-90 near Rome NY (not quite where Garminita wanted us to) and began the wandering trek up Rt 8 that leads into the green paradise of the Adirondack State Park.

This park covers a considerable portion of what New Yawkers like to call “upstate.”  I believe it is the largest state park in the USA, but unlike most others it encompasses numerous small villages.  It is more like a patchwork than a solid green square.  Inside, the roads wind and roll through lush greenery, vacation cabins are everywhere, and you can capture the spirit of northeast outdoorsmanship just by standing beneath the trees and inhaling the fresh air.

I like the little visual cues of the Adirondacks, like the yellow-on-brown road signs and the brown painted “parkitecture” of every campground.  In recent years when making this drive, Eleanor and I have always made a point of parking the Airstream in one of the pull-outs beside a burbling river (and there are many such spots).  We take a little walk to the water, then have lunch and maybe a nap in the Airstream—a fine way to get refreshed for a few hours more drive time.

This time we’ve opted to spend the night next to a little lake named Piseco, just a few miles south of the village of Speculator.  There are lots of public campgrounds here, perhaps not well recognized by the traveling public but very much appreciated by the locals and those in the know.  We’ve chosen Point Comfort campground, found about a mile down a narrow paved road off Rt 8, right on the shore of the lake.

Today, a Friday, we rolled in with no reservation but found this beautiful shady spot on the water nearly deserted.  The friendly camp host said only four sites were taken out of 76, so we had our pick.  Later this month, she said, the campground will fill on weekends but amazingly right now with the gorgeous weather hardly anyone is here.  There are no hookups and the dump station is a mile down the road at another campground, but who cares?  It’s peaceful and quiet and we’ve got a million dollar view of the water.

This park has no cellular service at all, which is great because it means we are forced to just relax in place.  (I am writing the blog on Friday but will post on Saturday when we are back online.)  For a writer, it’s nice to be completely isolated and free of Internet temptations once in a while.  For anyone, it’s a chance to read, talk, plan (for tomorrow’s stops and next week’s motorcycle tour), walk, play, and let the pine-scented air in the windows.  Those the sorts of things we’ve been doing tonight in and around the Airstream.  Uneventful?  Not at all!

Western NY

Decompression mission completed, we left Lou & Larry’s courtesy parking this morning.  After a lengthy round of goodbyes with everyone, we rolled off to I-90 from Cleveland to western PA and eventually to western NY near Jamestown.

Our new mission was to find the fabled “Forbidden” Amish Donuts that I mentioned in a previous blog. It wasn’t hard.  Garminita found the house far out in the countryside of Conewango Valley, a rural town along New York’s “Amish Trail“.  A hand-lettered sign saying “Baked Goods” was the only advertisement, but we knew instantly that this was the place.

The driveway was a major challenge.  I wasn’t about to pass this one by just because our 53 feet of towing rig couldn’t possibly fit.  There was no shoulder on the road either, but when you’ve driven many miles out of your way and have been anticipating creamy maple donuts the size of a softball, it’s amazing what can be done with an Airstream trailer.  We pulled in, turned around (badly scaring an Amish sheep in the process) in my patented 5-point turnaround maneuver, and aimed the Airstream toward the road, partially blocking the driveway and completing obscuring the three little parking spaces the Miller family had provided for their customers.

No matter.  Mr Miller came out and helped with the final back-in, and there were no other customers.  We stepped into the little shack that serves as their shop, and gazed adoringly at simple wood shelves laden with all types of pies, cookies, loaves of bread, cinnamon buns, and other treats.  Although a sign says “No photos,” the amiable Mr Miller allowed me to shoot a couple of the shelves (“as long as you don’t have me in it,”) for our records.

The real problem here is choosing what not to buy, since everything looks good—and the prices are a bargain.  We chose a half-dozen molasses cookies at $1.50, a jar of hot pepper relish, and a dozen donuts.  Our total was $14.50.  The maple donuts were not stocked, but on request he whistled to a family member and they labored in the kitchen unseen for a few minutes to custom-glaze and fill the dozen donuts for us, while we chatted about our travels and the spectacular spring weather to our Amish host.

Now, each of these donuts are absolutely enormous, kind of like a Cinnabon size but much better for being entirely homemade and local.  One of them is a meal.  We hauled the Airstream out of the driveway, waving to two members of the Miller family as we went, and sought out a roadside stop so that we could properly devour one each.

We found a NY State Fishing Access point on tiny Lake Flavia where nobody was fishing, pulled the Airstream in, and got into the donuts.  I really thought I would eat two of them, but one was definitely as much as I could eat—and I love maple cream donuts.  They’re that huge.

Getting out of that part of western NY state required a fair amount of 90-degree turns from one country lane to another, and much bouncing of the Airstream.  There was some re-packing needed at the next rest stop but it was all worth it.  We still have nine huge donuts left.

Tonight we are overnighting at Darien Lakes State Park, just east of Buffalo.  Being Thursday, there was no problem getting a site without a reservation.  While in the campground office we picked a spot that we’ve used before, but when we got down to the site it was flanked by two families who were nursing smoking “campfires” [Minor Rant: I wish campers would learn how to make fires rather than just smoke signals] and screaming children, and so decided to choose a site further away.  We’ll only be here one night and the weather is so fine that we want the windows open this evening.

This is a beautiful open site next to a grassy lawn that is just begging for a game of frisbee or whiffleball.  Too bad we don’t have a team.   We’ll just have to admire the view and walk around a little to get over four hours of towing.

Tomorrow our plan is to take I-90 east to the Adirondacks.  The only stop planned is Tim Horton’s to get some coffee, which means we have plenty of time for side trips if we think of anything we want to do.  Or we can just pause by the roadside and eat three more mammoth donuts …

Planning for ‘fandango

I would like to claim that we are still in the post-palooza recovery, and that’s the reason we must remain parked in Lou & Larry’s driveway, but in reality I think that the recovery was complete last night.  Now we are just hanging around because it is easy and fun to be here at the all-inclusive Northeastern Ohio Airstream Commune & Hotel California.  Lou & Larry have rolled out the red carpet for us every year since 2006.  As they say, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Living here is like having an extended family, composed entirely of Airstreamers.  There are three other Airstreams lounging here in the two driveways, and we all meet up daily for a group dinner inside the house.  Last night Eleanor brought over peanut noodles, and a bowl full of honeydew melon & blueberries with mint/lime sauce (both dishes using recipes she demonstrated at Alumapalooza), Loren grilled sausages with onions & peppers, Shinim made delicious Korean appetizers and cellophane noodles with beef, sKY made an avocado & yogurt dip in her Vitamix blender, and Lou & Larry supplied all the condiments, bread, and cheese.  Eclectic and fun.

At 8:30 we headed over to Loren’s house across the street to try out the Wii game “Rock Band.”  I’d never played it before.  They have the full setup: two guitars, keyboard, microphone, and drum kit, so we could all play at once.  I started on drums but was pathetic, so I switched to bass guitar.  Mike and Loren were expert on keys, while slaDE and I struggled by on the guitars, but eventually we all got the hang of it and it was hilarious fun.  Eleanor and Emma showed up later and joined in, singing and playing drums. My favorite time was when Eleanor and I did a duet of “Space Oddity” (David Bowie) while I played bass.  They nicknamed me “Bouncy.”  Whatever.  It felt like the old days in high school, only it sounded a lot better.  Loren says this has to be our official post-‘palooza decompression program from now.

Today the plan was to drive up to Cleveland to visit the West Side Market, but unfortunately a repair intervened.  It seems like something always needs tweaking when we come to Lou & Larry’s, which is actually fine because Larry always knows exactly where to go to buy a part or get something fixed.  This time it was one of the propane tanks, which began hissing out gas when I turned it on.  There’s a rubber gasket inside the valve that somehow got mangled and wasn’t able to seat correctly.  We hauled it down to the local propane supplier to get the entire OPD valve replaced (replacement parts aren’t available) and it will be ready this afternoon.

I suppose we could have still headed to Cleveland but I really need to get more work done.  I spent the entire day Tuesday locked up in the Airstream, catching up on various things that were neglected over the past two weeks of traveling and ‘paloozing.  The Fall 2012 issue needs a week of my attention and with travel plans I don’t really have a week of time available, so justifying another day away is difficult.  We’ve also got to get on the Alumafandango tasks, which are innumerable and complex.

Brett had a mishap yesterday on the road; the U-joint on the Argosy motorhome’s driveline broke, which caused the driveshaft to drop and flail around causing secondary damage.  After a AAA tow, he and Lisa are now stuck in East Overshoe (somewhere in Tennessee) with a pair of mechanics named Cletus (both of them) whose primary tools seem to be hammers.  Parts availability is poor, to say the least.  Cletus and Cletus banged away at his motorhome until 1 a.m. last night and at this point he’s hoping that he can get a hack repair that will get them home so that the entire thing can be disassembled and fixed correctly later at twice the cost.

I’m sympathetic, but on the other hand Brett’s conundrum is great for business.  To distract himself from the saws, hammers, and blowtorches underneath his feet, he has been working on ‘fandango stuff.  We’ve had a good call about the tasks ahead, and we are starting to come to grips with all the issues.  So far we’ve covered the basics of volunteers, apparel, transportation, seminars, equipment rental, meals, contests, and entertainment, and we’ve confirmed Lodge Logic (cookware) will be coming in as a sponsor.  If Brett is stuck in Tennessee for a few days we’ll get this thing nailed down in no time!

That’s probably not going to be the case, however.  We both have miles to go and much to do.  He’ll get on the road today most likely, and we will be heading out shortly as well.  Last night Eleanor and I worked out our routing for next few days, which is pretty straightforward (I-90 thru OH, PA, NY, then Adirondacks and on to VT).

We are going to mix up the usual route with a few stops, including a long-anticipated taste of Forbidden Amish Donuts. We will depart on Thursday and plan to arrive in Vermont on Saturday, which for those of you who are curious, is back to our usual rate of 150-250 miles per day.  We will try to avoid ending up in East Overshoe like Brett.