Coop's Corner: (Now) The Hyo Goes Italian

Saturday, August 11, 2012

(Now) The Hyo Goes Italian - Wisconsin Guzzi Rally

Last year, some of the guys (ADV riders, primarily BMW) joked that the rally was almost more of a German event than Italian; there were many non-Guzzi's there and this year wasn't much different. While there

The GT250R was loaded Thursday night, ready for an early Friday departure. On the road by 8AM, the first stop was breakfast in Alma at Pier 4. Down the Wisconsin side only as far as Fountain City where I crossed over to Winona and south from there as far as McGregor. A brief photo stop in the park above Lansing and then on to Bloomington, Lancaster, Rewey and to Lake Joy, riding past but not stopping at the original Wisconsin Capital site. Gene had been there a couple of hours already but with a new tent, so it took me a bit to even discover him at the shelter tent. Dave wouldn't arrive for a couple of hours.

My Hyosung in front of the tent, John's KS KLR front wheel to the left, an ST Honda in front of me, a Triumph beyond that and Mog's KLR beyond that. On the other side of the access lane are Nebraska Dan's new Tiger, Nebraska Al's Guzzi and the BMW's of Dave and Gene.

Dan with a smile on his face, like me, he'd waited for some better evening camera light.

Friday evening "round the circle" time......

Gene's 'new' tent.......he wasn't very happy with it and has returned it by now.

Ernie set up for Saturday vending......

After a very leisurely start Saturday morning, Gene, Dave and I headed west to Potosi, using County and named roads to sneak into the river's-edge town. I think both guys were surprised when I rode right past the planned brewery stop, sneaking under the railroad viaduct and out into the river on the gravel road. Dave managed to engage a guy that was in his van, quietly reading the sports pages with some local questions and an analysis of the guy's head of hair. The three of discussed the river, whether or not is was flowing north or south (finally there was agreement) and then we headed back into town for lunch at the brewery.

Original planning called for lunch and then a brewery tour, but between the looming rain showers and a couple of poorly planned gas stops, we'd used enough time that the the brewery tour didn't quite sound like it was worth the $3 or our time, so we headed back to Lake Joy via County O. We hadn't been back at camp very long before the showers came.

The Pennsylvania Marines(?) must have sent this to keep us protected......it wasn't a Guzzi either.

This bike from Texas.....he received long distance award as I remember it......

Comfy, cozy under the tent during the few hours of afternoon rain showers.

Darrel, Glen and Paul staying dry......

Lined up and getting 'rinsed' off.....

Saturday evening turned lovely, the air drier and cooler, the sky overnight cloudless and bright enough with moonlight to find the beer trailer without needing a torch. Sunday was crisp and cool, reminding me of a mid-September morning especially considering the hot weather we've been used to. Attendees were really clearing out, by 8 the majority were headed home. My goal was 9AM to be packed up, but in no hurry, I took my time and waited for Gene and Dave to be ready. They were going to stop in Mineral Point for breakfast, I declined and was anxious to make the 220 mile ride home.

Gene and Dave packing.......

Gene and Dave mostly packed......

Traveling light, my setup never takes very long to go up or down.....

Dan and his new-to-him Triumph finishing up.....

Most everyone gone......

I soon was as well. A quick convenience store sandwich in Lansing, an ice cream cone in Nelson and then home to Frontenac. 540 miles for the weekend, another really nice rally and a great ride on the GT250R.

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"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)